Swimming with the Big Fish
by bluheat
Summary: Jade Sayuri Klysen finds herself attending Rikkaidai after moving from the US. What will she do when she faces the toughest group of people she finds? This is her biggest challenge yet as she rides the storm of family relations, friendship, and possibly love. [RikkaidaixOC]
1. Welcome to Japan

Disclaimer: I don't own PoT.

This is a new story and it may be loosely related to the other story I already have posted; I'll be working on both at the same time. I'll try to keep everyone in character. All reviews and favorites would be greatly appreciated and I'll personally respond to all comments!

* * *

I looked back while I strolled through the gate and lightly touched the cherry blossom that my grandmother had tucked into my auburn locks as I held back tears. It was my last day in the US. Smoothing down my cerulean sundress, I turned my head forward and looked ahead. I knew I would be a foreigner, ostracized for both my looks and characteristics, and I doubted I would fit in. I wasn't ready. I would never be ready.

I looked left and right, looking for my seat. 11H. My favorite number and letter put together. Stowing my duffel bag overhead, I perched uncomfortably on my cushioned seat and peered out the window. The familiar green of Portland stared back at me for the last time and a single tear escaped the binds of my lower eyelid. I sniffled and wiped it away.

Stay positive. Stay positive. Stay positive. I chanted the mantra over and over again in my head. I heard the not-so-delicate rustle of clothes as someone plopped down in the seat next to me. I swiveled my head to the left, and saw a guy no older than me giving me a creepy smile. Internally, I winced. The last thing I wanted was to end up talking to a guy who would flirt the whole flight. I turned my head back to the window.

"Hey," the guy smirked, "so if it gets cold, you cool with being my blanket?"

My face blanched. At least if you were going to flirt, use a nice pickup line. I'm pretty sure what he said could have counted as harassment.

He grabbed my wrist, forcing me to tear my eyes away from Portland. I really didn't want to deal with this right now. I plastered on my innocent face, complete with my eyes completely open and me softly biting my lip. He looked startled as soon as he saw my face.

"Oh...um, hi," he murmured, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

I smirked internally. Not so confident anymore, eh? The best way to avoid a confrontation was either to pretend it didn't exist, or to fight it head on. The second was always the best way.

He let go of my wrist. I pointed to my throat and motioned.

"Oh, you can't talk?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Are you sick? Or...can you...just not?"

I lifted up two fingers, indicating the second. He looked ashamed of himself. Internally, I smirked again.

He looked away. "I...I'm sorry about earlier."

I simply nodded as the pilot's voice announced overhead that we were about to take off. I fastened my seat belt and pulled out my iPod classic. I slid the earbuds into place as I looked back over Portland. I pressed a button, starting the playlist I had specifically prepared for the flight.

I listened to the soothing notes, as they tried to assure me that everything would be be fine in the end. Another tear escaped the clutches of my right eyelid, while I looked over the emerald hues of Portland. My home. I would miss the clean, fresh air, the lack of plastic bags, bike paths, Mount Saint Helen...I could go on for hours. Most of all, I would miss my sweet grandmother and my brother and the memories embedded in the city that I loved.

I heard the rumble of plane engines as the we lifted off. I couldn't look away from the mountainous landscape as the heavy machine flew thousands of feet over the vista. I pressed my forehead against the cool pane of glass and watched as my favorite patch of the world passed under my feet. I refused to look away until we were flying over the peaceful crests of the Pacific. The same greenish-blue waves lulled me into a trance as I slowly but surely dozed off, still listening to the tranquil music which tried to convince me that all would be well.

* * *

I suddenly awoke to a hand shaking my shoulder. I slowly peeled open my eyes and turned to the left. The teenager sitting next to me simply muttered, "We're about to land."

I nodded and pulled out the earbuds that had remained embedded in my ears. I slid the device into my back jean pocket and fixed my brown combat boots. I refused to change my style, even if I was in a different country. I would change nothing.

The plane slowly lowered and came to a stop. People around me stood up as I slowly got to my feet. The guy next to me moved into the aisle and motioned for me to get my duffel first. "Ladies first," he smiled gently.

I smiled back innocently. I pulled the duffel bag off and turned toward the plane exit. Smirking, I knew there was one thing I had to do on the plane. Turning back I grinned, "By the way, you should really work on your pickup lines. They're atrocious."

I didn't stick around to see his face of shock or his stuttering. I had to face a confrontation face on, but who said I didn't have to play smart? I was finally ready to leave the life I had behind as I stepped through the gate on to the land that was supposed to be a quarter of who I represented. Japan.

My grandmother taught me to be proud of my Japanese heritage and taught me the language as soon as I began to master English. She wanted me to learn English first because she said she didn't want me to have an accent in the language I used with people outside the family. She always said to minimize your weaknesses. Learning Japanese was easy for me, or so she told me. I rather liked the language, but I only spoke it with my grandmother.

I never felt Japanese though. I always looked like a mix of European blood, reflecting the other three-fourths of my heritage. My auburn locks and light blue eyes masked the ancestry of grandmother. That wasn't all. She always told me I was didn't have the typical slender build of Japanese girls with my small waist, wide hips, and chest that defied that fourth of my blood. I simply laughed when she said that, knowing she liked messing with me. Nevertheless, she taught me Japanese along with French, Dutch, and German languages of Belgium, my mother and grandfather's heritage. The Belgian part of me reflected far more physically than my Japanese counterpart.

Imagine my surprise when I found my father's will saying that he wished for me to go to Japan for schooling if anything happened to him and my mother. I didn't understand his motives, and I doubted I ever would. I was comfortable in the US, with plenty of friends and teachers who praised my abilities. I was supposed to go into my freshman year in high school and I was predicted to be ranked highly both academically and athletically.

I lifted my heavy bags onto the trolley and fingered the strap of my last bag. The corners of my mouth lifted up. I opened it slightly and saw all my swim equipment and swimsuits packed neatly away along with my tennis rackets and spare tennis balls. Zipping it closed, I set the bag on the trolley along with the others.

As I rolled my trolley out into the sea of people waiting outside the terminal, I heard someone call my name. "Jade Sayuri Klysen!"

I turned, remembering a conversation with my grandmother I had years ago. I had asked her about my unusual name and she only responded that my father wished for me to represent all of heritage, even through my name. She had explained that Klysen came from my Belgian side and Sayuri was her name, and therefore became my middle name. I was named Jade because my mom thought it was a beautiful and simple name.

I walked towards the voice and snapped out of my reverie. Smiling, I saw a middle aged woman waving and holding a sign with my name over her head.

"Ah, Suzuki-san! It is nice to put a face to the voice I talked to on the phone," I said amicably in Japanese to my new neighbor. My grandmother had kept ownership of a flat in Japan even though my grandfather had insisted for her to sell it decades ago. Upon knowing that I was to move back to Japan, my grandmother had given me the key in a neatly wrapped box along with a new credit card while tears flowed down her cheeks. She had said that it was the key to the flat that she had saved all these years and she wanted me to furnish it with the credit card. She told me to make it a place I would be happy to come home to. She gave me the number to the neighbor and told me to rely on her, as she was an old family friend. Suzuki-san had remained an obscure voice on the phone until now.

The middle aged woman laughed. "I forgot that you are fluent in Japanese, Klysen-kun."

"Please. Call me Jade or Sayuri, whichever makes you more comfortable. I respond to both."

She smiled. "Come, we'll load your luggage into the car."

I followed her out of the airport, pushing the trolley in front of me. "Ah, Suzuki-san, when is my first day of school?"

"It starts in one day. I have the uniform you are supposed to wear hung up in your closet. You'll be starting with my daughter, who will be going into her third year, just like you. She happens to like her school, Rikkai Dai Fuzoku. It's a very competitive school, but from what you have told me I believe it would be a perfect fit for you."

I nod. "Yes, I'm naturally competitive and so was my old school. On top of that, my brother is six years older than me and we always try to outdo each other. Currently, he's at college."

"I was right. The school should be a good fit for you. What do you do for fun, Jade-kun?"

"Several things really. I am foremost a swimmer, and spend a lot of time swimming daily. I also play the saxophone and sometimes bake or read."

We stop at her car and I insist that I should load the luggage myself. She eventually slides into the car while I finish weighing down her car with large bags. I jump into the car myself as she backs out and starts on the short journey back to our flats.

* * *

"Eh, this is her? I expected differently," I hear a voice in the background.

I open a single eyelid, mourning the loss of my nap.

"Don't be rude, Azuri," says the familiar voice of Suzuki-san.

"What exactly did you expect?" I grin, ruffling my hair and stepping out of the car.

They girl my age paused in thought. "I expected a really tall person with blonde hair and blue eyes and to carry McDonald's and eat hamburgers all the time, and would speak only English," she smirked jokingly. "But you are really tall and have blue eyes."

"Sorry to disappoint. Besides, I'm a normal height in the US. 170 cm is normal. And I totally dislike hamburgers. And I'm fluent in Japanese," I stick out my tongue.

Suzuki-san simply laughs in the background. "I knew you two would get along just fine." Azuri and I smile in response. "Now go help Jade-kun with her bags."

I try to protest but she grabs a bag and runs, sticking out her tongue, teasing me. I grab a bag and run after her, laughing. Grabbing the key bestowed to me by my grandmother, I stab into the lock and turn. Azuri and I gasp as the door swings open.

"W..Wow. It's amazing.." Azuri stutters.

"Thank you, I decorated it myself."

I drop the bag that I'm carrying and run back towards the car. My laziness takes over and I grab four bags and lug them back to the door, panting. I'd rather take one trip than multiple.

"How are you carrying all of that?"

"Pure determination," I pant back. "Anyways, that's all the bags."

Azuri grabs my wrist and and drags me out the door. "Come on! I want to show you the area."

"Uh..if you insist..." I stammer, as I check if my cellphone and iPod are still in my pockets and my backup cash is still stashed in my boots.

* * *

"Look! That's the school we're both attending tomorrow," Azuri explains. "Want to see the campus?"

I nod, excited. It was better if I learned the placement of the buildings before school started. I hated getting lost. The multiple buildings looked smaller than the high school I was supposed to go to, yet more intimidating.

"Oh don't have that expression," she teased. "We share multiple parts of the school with Rikkai Dai Sr. High."

"It's smaller than I expected."

"What? Really?"

"Mhm..." I trail off while try describing the high school I was supposed to go to. Azuri listens attentively while interjecting every couple of seconds with questions about the school in America or to point out parts of the school.

I pause as I hear a yell and the harried steps of multiple people in a dead sprint. I turn see multiple people in red and yellow uniforms run past. I turned my puzzled face towards Azuri.

"Eh, I didn't know they practiced before school started. That's the tennis team. They're famous for never losing and their tough attitude."

"Hmm, is that so? That's dedication." I remember my brother teaching me how to do basic swings and training me. His natural ability in tennis was never reflected in me, which is why I used tennis to train my arms for swimming. When I quit tennis, my brother only smiled and told me that it was important for my to find my own way to be happy.

"Yeah," she replied. "We have a lot of other sports teams and clubs as well. Chances are if you play a sport, we have a club for it."

"Hm, is that so?" I repeated. "How's your swim team?"

There was a pregnant pause in the conversation. "Swimming?" She had a mournful look on her face. "The swim team doesn't really exist. I mean, the coach is still around, but no one is on the team. The coach was apparently too tough and got mad at everyone because they didn't take the team seriously. It was mainly to wear skimpy clothing and flirt with other sports teams."

I looked down on the ground and kicked a pebble. Typical. There were plenty of girls on the swim team who joined swimming for that sole purpose on my old club team. It was a shame that no one took it as a serious sport. It was a beautiful sport that took so much mental and physical training. "Oh. I see. If the coach is still around, I could try to join, right?"

"Uh, I suppose. He's the advanced math teacher for our year."

"Good to know. Anyways, let's go somewhere else. I'm kind of hungry."

She grinned. "I know this perfect place."

* * *

I looked at the long line in front of the building. "Are you sure this is a good place to eat? It might take a while."

"It's totally worth it."

"By the way..." I asked, "what should I make for the first day of school?"

"What are you talking about?

I explained to her my old friends' tradition of bringing something sweet when one of us were new to something. Because it was my first day of school in a new country, I wanted to bring something sweet as an icebreaker. It tended to make other people more willing to talk to me, which helps because of how independent I am.

To my surprise, Azuri didn't demean the idea list most people did. She started to list off ideas. Cookies? Too generic and quite easy. Brownies? No, a little too sweet for most people's taste. Cake? Nah, I always botched up cakes. Cheesecake? Hard to keep in good condition without a refrigerator. Pie? I hated eating and making pie. Pudding? Had to be refrigerated as well. Same with custards. Fudge? Well that could stay in good condition in a decent plastic container.

"What about cream puffs? They taste quite good. I can make both fudge and cream puffs."

"Sounds yummy!" Azuri bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. "Can we make them together? It would be fun!"

"Eh, I don't see why not." I opened the door to the bakery. The line had shortened enough during our conversation to allow us to open the door. I took a deep breath of the tantalizing smell.

"Hmm...I'll take a dozen salted caramel cream puffs," ordered the pinkish-red haired person ahead of me.

My ears perked up at the sound of cream puffs. As odd as his hair was, I wanted a few ideas for baking. I turned to Azuri, and her face reflected what I thought.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I grinned.

"You mean am I totally thinking about ordering the cream puffs and fudge, or do I want to get letter to a mysterious school of magic which uses wands and has totally badass classes?"

"So you are thinking what I'm thinking!" I joked back. "But no seriously, I wanted that letter so bad for my eleventh birthday."

We stepped forward to the forward of the line. The store manager took one look at me and began to speak in halted English. "H..Hello...may I take...your order?"

I internally rolled my eyes in annoyance. I replied back in Japanese that easily flowed from my lips. "Can I please have a salted caramel cream puff and a piece of your best fudge?"

"Same for me please," said Azuri.

His eyes reflected shock in my Japanese. I smirked internally, proud of my mastery of several languages. "I'm quite new here sir, I just moved the the country."

"B..But, you speak Japanese so well," he stuttered back.

"Thank you sir. I am partially Japanese. Looks can be quite deceiving sometimes."

He smiled and handed Azuri and I a box full of confectionary pleasures. "You have taught me an impressive lesson. Thank you."

I dipped my head in acknowledgement, "Thank you for the food."

Azuri giggled as we turned and exited the small building. "Impressive, Jade-kun."

"Please, just call me Jade. No formalities." I smiled at the girl that I felt that I could be great friends with.

* * *

I chewed thoughtfully in my kitchen with Azuri, my mouth full of cream puff. "Ehh, this isn't bad. But I think I can make better. The cream is too thin and there's not a proper balance of caramel and cream. The fudge isn't bad either, but it would taste better with either dark chocolate or almonds."

"What are you talking about? This is the best I've ever tasted."

I shook my head in pity. "We have tonight to make better."

This time, I was the one dragging her out the door. Five minutes and we were at the local grocery store while I ran around grabbing items such as flour and chocolate and sugar. Azuri ran after me trying to hold all of the items.

"Are you an expert at baking or something?" she panted, trying to keep up.

"Nope! Just a dabbler in the arts!" I called back, grabbing a carton of heavy cream.

I brushed past a person in a yellow uniform that I swore I had seen earlier. His white cap covered his face as I ran past. "Sorry!" I yelled as I turned and did a brief bow. "Didn't mean to run into you!"

Azuri ran after me and started giggling as we cleared another aisle and dropped our items at the counter to pay. "I can't believe you...you have guts...unbelievable..." she giggled.

I decided to ignore her words as I saw the plastic bags the store attendant handed to us.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, "plastic bags. It's been a while since I've seen this."

Azuri looked at me, puzzled. I explained to her the lack of plastic bags in my familiar town of Portland as we walked back to my flat. The plastic bags had been banned and I was used to carrying around my own bags. Great for the environment but sometimes annoying, the bag ban had been a part of my daily life. She nodded in understanding as she listened to my monologue.

"So Azuri, what clubs are you in?" breaking my babbling.

"I'm in student council and photography club as well. I hate to say it, but I'm in the math Olympiad as well."

My head snapped up. "Math Olympiad? Really? I used to be in that and science Olympiad along with swimming. I had fun doing it, even though most people thought it was weird."

Azuri nodded while kicking a pebble. "'I'm the president of the team and you are welcome to join if you want. Because most people are in other clubs, we meet once a week during lunch. We don't have a science Olympiad though. I think that's in the high school section."

I told her I would love to after I figured out my swimming always came first, no matter what. I grabbed the key from my pocket and opened the door to the flat. "Come on! We have to start baking! It has to be perfect!"

She simply raised an eyebrow as I started a flurry in the kitchen with the bowls and pans I found in the cupboard. Eventually, she stopped leaning against the wall and started mixing bowls I threw at her. I couldn't lie, I was having fun even though I was covered in flour as Azuri and I argued over who got the right to lick the spoon. It seemed that even though I was thousands of miles away from Portland, I still felt that this place I was in had a significance to me. I don't know if I could call it home yet but it was definitely a start. I looked at the family portrait hung up on the dining room's wall. My family stared back at me, smiling, as if trying to say that they agreed. This could be a new home. I still questioned my father's will and missed Portland, I still felt a pang of homesickness, and I still feel like I could look up and see my sweet grandmother walk around a corner, but this place in this foreign country connected to me somehow. Maybe it wasn't so foreign after all.

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	2. First Day

Disclaimer: I only wish that I could own PoT.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and followed/favorited the story!

* * *

I carefully balanced a spoon on my nose as the oven timer dinged. My mouth watered, ready to try the cream puffs from the oven and the fudge that had hardened in the fridge. Pulling on oven mitts, I carefully slid the pan out of the oven. Azuri, the impatient one, grabs a cream puff and nearly drops it, screaming about how hot it is. I simply roll my eyes.

"You're nuts. I have never been more tired in my life, and all I did was mix bowls," she said before carefully taking a bite of the salted caramel cream puff. Her eyebrows raised as she slowly chewed.

"Yo div iy," she said, while she munched away.

"Hmm?"

She swallowed. "Holy crap, you did it. That was the best I ever tasted."

I grinned, motioning for her to try the fudge that I had pulled out of the fridge.

"That's it. You're a witch. You should have totally gone to that magic school," she moaned, after trying the fudge. "There's no other explanation for how good this food is."

I grabbed plastic containers to pack the delicacies.

"You know," she continued, "you could totally sell those. People would buy."

"Nah, too lazy. Besides, it's just a hobby."

I slipped a few pieces of both the cream puffs and the fudge into a separate, smaller container and threw it towards Azuri. She caught it, but not before it hit her in the face.

"Heh, oops," I grin and shrug half-heartedly.

"Whyy…you…" Azuri sprang towards me and chased me around the flat as I laughed and laughed.

* * *

I opened my eyes to a white ceiling and the ringing of my alarm clock. I sat up, puzzled at first by the lack of my grandmother shaking me awake and why my ceiling was no longer dark blue. Oh, I remember. I am in Japan. The words repeated in my head. I am in Japan. I am in Japan. I am in Japan, about to start my first day of school.

SCHOOL. I sat up and ran my fingers through the bird's nest perched on top of my head. Throwing off my covers, I sprinted to the shower, graced it with version of a popular song, brushed my teeth and shoveled down some cereal in the span of ten minutes. I checked the time and mentally banged my head against the wall. It was two hours before I had to go to my new school. I sighed and smoothed the front of the dark blazer and skirt, straightened my striped tie, and checked the contents of my backpack. Registration papers and identification? Check. Notebooks and binders? Check. Salted caramel cream puffs and dark chocolate almond fudge? Check. My favorite gel pens? Check. Extra money and phone? Check. Map of the school that I had found on the internet and a pack of gum? Check. On to my sports duffel, I ruffled through the contents. My lucky green Nike swim suit? Check. Cap and goggles? Check. Two extra changes of clothes and an extra uniform? Check. Shampoo and conditioner and a towel? Check. My brother's old tennis racket and three balls? Check. I ruffled through the contents once more and felt a foreign object slide into my palm. I lifted it out of the and promptly started to laugh as I remembered my grandmother telling me she put something into my bag that I would think was funny. I laughed at the pepper spray that rested in my hand.

I tossed it into a smaller pocket of the sports duffel, chuckling to myself as I sling the bags on my back and decide to head to school early instead of sitting around in the empty flat. Chances were that no one would be on the tennis courts at the crack of dawn. As I strolled down the path to Rikkaidai, I nodded along to the music on my iPod and tossed a tennis ball up and down. I retreated into the depths of my mind, remembering the day my brother had gotten me to hold my first tennis racket. I was in my swim suit from practice when he suddenly tossed it to me. He pointed to me and told me that I had a natural grip and promptly taught me how to swing. My grandmother found me an hour later, bouncing a tennis ball while blowing gum bubbles, still wet from swim practice and chlorine drying in my hair. I taught myself tricks, flips, and strengthening exercises for fun, but it never connected with me in the same say swimming did. In swimming, it was just the water, battling it out to shave off a few milliseconds. It tested your inner strength, your perseverance, and physical condition in a way other sports never would. It had a beauty and a balance revealed to the people who willingly painted themselves in chlorinated water.

I took a step through the gates of Rikkaidai Fuzoku Jr. High, glancing at my new school. The early streaks of dawn and the crisp air swirled around me as I breathed in. Strolling over to the tennis courts, I took out my brother's old racket, slid my bags off my shoulders, and entered the court with a wall. I twisted my reddish-brown locks into a sloppy ponytail. The whistle of a ball slicing through the air and a smack from the contact between the ball and racket reverberated through my head as the gentle rally with the wall began. I was transferred back into the time when my brother and I played together agaist a wall. One of us wet, one dry, we attacked a wall with gusto while blowing gum bubbles. I hummed as I did a flip in the air and danced to the tune of the bouncing ball and nearly missed when I heard the clearing of a throat. I caught the ball easily and turned around while blowing a bubble. The sight before me caused me to raise my eyebrows.

"May I help you?" I asked the blue-haired teenager in a uniform that reminded me of a bee. His arms were crossed over his chest while his jacket balanced on his shoulders. His green headband was a great contrast to his fair skin.

"These parts of the courts are currently supposed to be used by the boy's tennis team only," he seemed to purr.

I blew another bubble and tore out the elastic band that secured my ponytail. I didn't want to argue with the rules on my first day. I put my racket and ball away, zipped up my bags, and let the bags sit on its rightful place on my shoulder as I strolled out of the court.

"You know," he smiled while effectively stopping my exit, "most fans stand outside the courts and cheer. Not in it."

I turned back, scanning his face. My eyes narrowed. His seemingly gentle and kind appearance didn't measure well with his words. Although he seemed kind when he spoke, there was something about him that deeply unnerved me. "I'm sorry if most girls kiss your feet, but I'm not a fan."

His eyes changed as I turned and walked out of the courts without looking back. I didn't realize that an hour had passed simply by hitting against the wall. I wandered around campus for a couple of minutes and then walked into the main building and entered the main office. With my registration papers grasped in my hand, I pushed them across the desk.

"Ah, you must be the new student, Klysen-kun," a middle-aged man said, sitting across the desk.

I nodded.

"Well, you're more than qualified for the grade you are going into. You are our first transfer from another country. Your science and math qualifications are extremely impressive. You seem ready. However, can you speak Japanese?"

"Yes sir. I've been speaking Japanese for years."

He looked surprised to see a foreigner speaking a language fluently. I smirked internally. "Well, then, you are set to be in class 3B."

"All the classes are considered equal, right? There isn't a class that is necessarily smarter?" I questioned. I had to be in the highest class possible to prove that a foreigner could be on top.

He looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "No, they are all the same."

I nod again, and walk out the door.

* * *

"Oi, Jade! Do you have any leftover cream puffs? My siblings ate them all."

I turn with a smile decorating my face. "What are you talking about?" I teased. "You probably ate them all by yourself."

Azuri stuck her tongue out at me as she pushed me through the doorway to my new class of 3-B. She pointed out stupid things such as the chalkboard and teacher's desk to make me laugh. It was as if she had known me for years. I looked at the multiple people in one classroom and sighed.

I had not been new to a school since kindergarten. Every year, I returned to familiar faces as I moved from grade to grade. It was very different now. I was the new kid. Everyone knows that every move of the new kid is judged with scrutiny. I pulled out my perfected salted caramel cream puffs and dark chocolate almond fudge on to a desk that I claimed to be mine.

"Everyone! My new friend Klysen made us food! She's new to the school and wants to get along with everyone," Azuri announced.

I shot her an exasperated look for announcing me to the class, and was promptly overrun by the crowd surrounding my desk. A familiar looking redhead got to the containers first and stuffed half of a cream puff into his mouth while grabbing a piece of fudge. Several girls came up to me and attempted to make a conversation about how the area was while others looked at me, judging me by my looks. I wasn't completely blind and I could tell they were surprised that a foreigner could speak fluent Japanese.

The red haired boy stumbled, staring at the cream puff in his hand. My eyes widened as I mentally checked over what ingredients I used, hoping poison wasn't one of them. "Are you okay?" I asked, touching the shoulder of the teenager. The whole classroom became silent as they observed the scene. I could hear whispers of girls claiming I poisoned one of the most amazing people in the school. I rolled my eyes, but I was still concerned that I had somehow poisoned him.

His face turns towards me and an expression of elation grows on his face. "How did you make these? These are better than me favorite bakery's!"

"Oh, um, I just modified an old recipe." I heard whispers of girls in the background as their faces turned nasty.

"May I take a few more?" His face reflected hope and happiness, similar to me after an amazing meet after I shaved off a significant amount of a second. I nod. I had enough to give everyone in the class several and his face reflects ultimate euphoria. Azuri nudges me in the arm with a smile that hid her face, which actually showed that she was terrified. I looked around and all the girls looked completely angered. It seemed as if this boy is worshipped. Not a great way to start off the first day.

I lifted the container, "Everyone can have more. There's plenty." In a few seconds the container was empty. At least I had a backup container.

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of class. The teacher walked in, and wrote his name on the board and announced himself as the advanced math teacher. Hm, so this was the man who was supposed to be the tough swim coach. He looked familiar, as if I had seen him in a magazine. He started to ramble about numbers and letters and soon everyone was dozing off.

"You!" he yelled, pointing to me.

"M…me?" I said, pointing to myself.

"Yes you. Stop looking around and solve the problem on the board." He handed me a piece of chalk.

"Oh…okay." I grab a piece of chalk and squint at the problem on the board. I yawned, solved the problem requiring the use of sine and cosine, hand him the chalk, and walk back to my seat. Everyone else is still half asleep and he seemed to either not care or not notice. He turned around to face the class-probably about to yell at the torpid students-and I studied the details of his face. I knew I had seen his face somewhere. The sloppy hair and small wrinkles gave it away.

"Daichi Suzuki," I gasp. "Gold in 1988."

The class finally woke up to hear, "See me after class." They gasped, looked at me, and then looked at the teacher. As soon as the talk of numbers escaped from the man's lips, the class fell asleep again.

I groaned internally, not wanting to pay attention. I forced myself to listen to the droning voice until the bell rang, signaling time for lunch. As the students filed out of the classroom, I walked up to the teacher's desk. The occupant of the seat was scribbling something on to a scrap of paper. I looked at him, wondering how a career could spiral that out of control.

I stood before him, quietly, until he broke the silence. "How did you know?"

"I learned backstroke from watching your recorded swims from the Olympics. I wanted to formally request to be on the Rikkaidai swim team."

His face changed into a mask of steel. I couldn't read his face or emotions. "Why?"

"Because I love to swim. It makes me happy."

"The pool is dirty. Clean it and report back to me during lunch tomorrow."

I nodded. I knew how to clean pools, but I wondered why he specifically he wished for me to do it. Perhaps he was testing how badly I really wanted to swim.

"Oh," he said, "one more thing. What is your name?"

"Jade Sayuri Klysen."

"Very well, then you are dismissed."

"Thank you," I replied in English, "coach."

I swore I saw a smile on his face as I left for lunch.

Azuri pounced on me as soon as I left the classroom. "Are you in trouble? Are you going to be ok? If you have a suspension, I heard it's not that bad…"

I laughed. "It's nothing like that. It was about swimming."

"Really? What did he say?"

"I have to clean the pool if I want to swim.?

"Eh? We have a pool?"

I look back at her, in horror. "What?" I stumble over my words and literally as we walk up the stairs to the roof to have lunch. "You're joking right?"

Her face reflects mine. She opens the door to the roof as I dash and peer over the rails to try to find the pool.

"Where is it? Where is it?" I murmur to myself. "It has to be here somewhere." I spot and empty hold sitting behind the multiple tennis courts and give a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, it's near the tennis courts. I nudge Azuri and point to the pool and she grins.

She grabs my arm and starts showing me the large rooftop garden. The gorgeous flowers bask in the midday sun as we stroll along the paths. We sit down on a grass covered patch and feast upon our lunch, laughing. I told her stories about growing up in the US while she told me about growing up in Japan.

I almost don't see the group of boys being lead by a blue-haired, lanky teenager. I simply blink and blow a gum bubble from the piece I had popped in my mouth after lunch. The fruity piece got tortured more and more as the group came closer to where Azuri and I were sitting. I put my face down, hoping he wouldn't see my face. I had no such luck.

He raised an eyebrow and gave the same smile from a few hours before. "Hm…how troublesome," he teased.

I shot him a dirty look and opened my mouth to retort but was interrupted by the call of "Klysen?"

I looked for the person who had said my name, and behind the blue-haired, lanky teenager was the boy with messy red hair. He smiled. "The name is Marui. Marui Bunta."

I nodded, remembering that the Japanese introduced their last name first. "Hm, Marui-kun, did you like the cream puffs?"

His eyes lit up. "Yes! They were amazing! Do you have anymore?"

I laughed and pulled out my backup container. "Well I was going to use these to bribe someone, but it seems as if that's not necessary anymore." I tossed him the container.

"Eh? Jade! You said I could have the leftovers!" Azuri pouted.

"There's some left at my flat. Just come over after school," I smile back.

"Okay!" both Azuri and Marui say.

"Huh? W…Wait," I say shocked.

Marui grins. "Kidding! I knew you were talking to Suzuki."

I visibly relax as Azuri giggles. "After club activities, right?"

I nod as Marui waves and joins the group of boys again. "Yeah. There's probably lots of cockroaches and june bugs floating around on it."

I heard the familiar whistle of a ball cutting through the air. I grabbed my racket from my bag in a flash and successfully hit it back in the direction it came from and growled. "If you were trying to test me, I suggest you test me on the court."

I heard nothing but a single, "Puri."

My eyes narrowed as I seized a ball from my bag and tossed the ball up in the air and served the way my brother taught me to. I pinpointed the source of the single offending word and hit the ball accurately and quickly, at 190 kilometers an hour. I didn't stick around to see the aftermath of the chaos that I created, knowing that I had hit my target. I dragged Azuri off the roof and down the stairs, completely fed up with the group of guys.

I ignored Azuri when she said, "You have no idea who you just messed with."

* * *

"I'm impressed. She's good with both rackets and food," I murmured, messing with my red hair.

"She hit me with the ball," Niou uttered, touching where the ball had smashed into his cheek.

Yukimura turned to the unnerving boy with closed eyes. "Who is she? I don't remember seeing her around before and now I've seen her twice in one day."

"I don't know. I have no data," Renji replied. "The only thing I know is that she seems to have Belgian blood, which was deducted from her name: Klysen."

Yagyu pushed his glasses up his nose. "That must be a first. You have data on everyone."

"Everyone but her," he turned, looking at the door she had exited through.

"I have data on her," I smiled, remembering her bright smile and amazing baking. "She makes great cream puffs and fudge, and she looks different than most girls. Probably because she isn't running after us."

Yanagi smiled back. "That's not data." He turns to Yukimura, "But I will find out about her. My only question is why are you asking about her?"

Yukimura's face doesn't change as he smoothly replies, "I'm not."

"I don't see why you all care enough to ask," Sanada mutters.

We all smile, knowing how Sanada was.

* * *

I smiled, fingering the straps of my favorite Nike swim suit as I pulled it on. The green, sleek polyester clung to every angle and curve. It was the same design as the suit I had worn to my very first swim meet at the young age of seven, when I only though of the water as my favorite toy. I had discovered the joys of swimming in that dark green Nike suit, and ever since then I had ordered the same suit whenever my previous one had worn out. I looked down at my body and my cheeks became tinged with pink. No matter what suit I had worn since the age of thirteen, my chest had shown more that I was used to. I pulled on a simple pair of shorts and running shoes before exiting the locker room with my sports bag balanced on my shoulder.

My first mission of cleaning the pool was to find the supply cabinet, flags, and lane lines. I whistled a simple tune as I strolled along the path leading me past the courts and towards the pool. I stopped by what seemed to be a supply cabinet. Peering in, I saw an endless supply of what appeared to be tennis supplies. I slowly step into the supply container and spy a roll of lane lines and flags. I grin as I begin to tug out the heavy items while keeping my sports equipment behind my shoulder.

I turned when I heard the footsteps of another person coming through the door.

"Ah, would you like help? asked a violet haired guy with glasses. "I have not seen you around before. My name is Yagyuu Hiroshi.

I nodded and bowed slightly. "Thank you very much. I would appreciate that."

He smiled slightly as he began to tug at the heavy equipment. "It has been a long time since I have seen this equipment used. Why are you taking it out?"

"I am to fix the pool by tomorrow to prove that I am willing to swim with the name of the school on my back."

"This school is very competitive. I assume you are new."

I nod. "Yes. And I have heard about how competitive the school is. Apparently, the motto is Rikkaidai must always win."

"Yes. Yes, it is." He finishes lugging out the equipment and places it next to the pool.

"Thank you very much," I bow. He smiles as a response and turns on his heel.

"I must go or I will be forced to run laps."

"Good bye and thank you again, Yagyuu-kun."

I turned my attention toward the bug-covered pool and the water that seemed to lack chlorine. I didn't think that I would have to fix the water in the pool itself, but it seemed as if I was wrong. First things first, I at least had to attempt to get the lane lines up. The multiple poles that stood up around the pool would have to be climbed while I wrapped the flags through the loops above the poles. I sighed as I got to work.

I hummed a simple tune as I swept the net back and forth through the water, taking out the bugs that littered the bottom. I was transported back to the time when my brother had been accepted to college. That night, I had just gotten back from practice and my brother sat in the kitchen, bouncing his legs on the balls of his feet. He could have easily gone pro when he turned eighteen, but he wanted to go to college. He ripped open the envelope when I perused the fridge after I entered the house. He was accepted to the best colleges all over the country, but he only wanted to go to Cornell. He started yelling out of happiness as I hugged him as he read the first lines of the letter, 'Congratulations on your acceptance to Cornell University…'

I scooped out a few tennis balls that lined the depths of the pool. My arms strained as I got increasingly more tired as the net in my arms seemed to weigh me down. The extra effort to take out the neon-green balls wore away at me patience as I stacked the balls into a pile at the side of the pool. Growling, I made the trek back and forth to the supply cabinets, tested the water, and added the essential chemicals to bring the water to normal levels. I slaved away while cleaning the filters, chlorinating the pool, and doing a basic shock treatment to make the pool safe for cleaning. The three-lane twenty-five yard pool glistened back at me, with the lane lines gently bobbing in the waves and the flags flapping overhead. I smiled, happy with the effort.

Looking at the neat stack of tennis balls, my right eye twitched. I suppose it couldn't be helped, and that the right thing to do was to return the balls that had been so nicely deposited in my pool. I stuck another piece of fruity gum in my mouth and balanced the balls on my brother's racket as I left my bags and the newly cleaned pool behind.

The fan girls surrounding the courts squealed at every shot the tennis players took. I couldn't even begin my rant on how much I hated annoying fans who got in the way of practice. I simply blew a yellow gum bubble and walked past, with my brother's racket piled with the neon-green balls. I pushed open the gate to the courts and confidently strode in and leaned against the fence. The crowd fell silent as the tennis players turned to look at me.

"What are you doing on the court?" called the blue-haired guy with narrowed eyes.

I smirked. "You hit your tennis balls into my pool, so I'm simply being nice and giving them back." I tilted my racket and let the spheres bounce to the ground as I let my face turn stony. "Be warned. I won't tolerate it again." I swivel on the ball of my foot and walk out, closing the door to the fence surrounding the courts. Not a single fan girl was shrieking as I grin, strolling back towards the pool while twirling my brother's racket in my hands.

It was two minutes later that I heard the explosion of "TARUNDORU!" while I sat by the poolside. I burst out laughing at the awful catchphrase and hear the jingle of a text message interrupting my outburst. Shoving my hand in my bag, I fish out my phone and flip it open.

'You should have told me you were in Japan. I'm sending a limousine in front of your flat tomorrow at 6. Get in and don't bother asking why or arguing. –an old friend'

My eyes widen and wonder how he found out so quickly. I looked forward to seeing him again.

* * *

Thanks again for reading! I look forward to any comments or reviews that any one posts.

Guess who the old friend is?


	3. Hello Old Friend

Disclaimer: I really wish I owned PoT. I don't own Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips or Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol either.

I know that Atobe is going to seem OOC, but I assure you that was on purpose! I really saw him as a person who would be normal around one or two people only.

Thank you to everyone who has favorited or followed the story! It means a lot!

* * *

I stack the food containers full of homemade Yorkshire pudding, roast beef, mushroom risotto, and extra salted caramel cream puffs into a separate canvas bag as I hoist my backpack and sports bag into their rightful places. Poor Azuri, she was pulled into mixing duty again after she had innocently knocked on my door the night before. As much as she had protested, we had finished all our homework while we measured ingredients and I had made another mess in the kitchen.

The early morning's fresh air swirled around me as I skip down the path, looking at the rays of the sun that are starting to peek over the horizon. The chauffer opened a door to the limousine as I internally sighed, knowing it was pointless to insist that I could open my own doors. I murmured my gratitude as the chauffer shut the door and began driving to the unknown destination; I didn't even bother to ask since the chauffer was probably instructed to keep silent. Simply watching the sunrise while the car made its way to wherever we were going was satisfactory enough for me.

As I gaze out the window, buildings zip by as I remember past memories with whom I considered my best friend. I remembered getting him to wear a dress because I absolutely refused to-the picture was still the background on my phone-and our parents trying to teach us ballroom dancing. I was so awful he told me to just step on his feet as he attempted to lead. Even though we lived an ocean apart, it never stopped us from visiting and calling each other. I had not talked to him since I had found out about my father's will and with everything that had gone on since, it had slipped my mind.

His royal airhead always acted like a normal person around me, though I failed to see why. Despite my family's broad wealth, no one could ever tell. I did not wear the designer clothes unless if required by social gatherings. Even now, I was wearing my usual brown combat boots, medium-blue jeans, and a cream sweater with a big maroon bow on the front. My school uniform was safely stowed away in my backpack and I hoped that I didn't have to skip school.

The limo coasted to a stop in front of a huge school campus and I opened the door before the chauffer had the ability to. I smirked internally at my small victory as the chauffer instructed me to find the tennis courts because 'young master' was waiting there. I mutter my appreciation as I shut the door, clutching my three bags. I left before the chauffer could insist to carry my bags.

I meander around campus, following the signs to get to the tennis court. Finding it, I push the door that said 'athletes only' to get to the actual courts instead of the stands. After pushing open several doors, I am greeted with the sight of several tennis players crowded around the leader, whose back is to me. I let my bags fall to the ground and I pose against the wall, with my arms above my head while I smirk. He had taught me the pose when he found out that I was going to get my first interview in a magazine. He said it was essential to use that pose, but I never could get myself to do it.

I could see a few of the people crane their head, trying to look at me, while the leader failed to notice. I opened my mouth and let the tunes of a song flow from my lips. He always thought I had a good voice and tried to get me several voice contracts; I constantly declined, saying I only liked singing for a select few and not the world. Regardless, I knew he liked my voice.

"If I lay here," I sing in English, "If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

He stopped talking and I didn't need to see his face to know that his lips twisted into a rare smile. It was not his predatory one, which he used during tennis, but an actual one that the human race seldom saw.

"Forget what we're told, before we get too old," I continue singing the intricate melody, "show me a garden that's bursting into life."

The tennis players in front of me are in shock as the leader with lilac-gray hair rotates towards me, the smile still plastered on his face. He takes unsteady steps towards me, as if he can't believe he is seeing me after so long.

"My queen," he purrs while sinking into a bow.

I chuckle at his greeting, the same one that he had done when we were six and acted as if we were the rulers of a great land.

I push myself off the wall and slowly walk towards him. "My king," I grin back and curtsy.

Suddenly, I find myself wrapped in his arms while he curses in German. "Damn you Sapphire. Do you have any idea how worried I was? You couldn't even give a single phone call. Do you know how I know you're here? My parents told me. MY PARENTS," he finishes with a yell.

Smiling at my nickname, I let my head fall on to his shoulder, knowing that he needed to hug me to convince himself that I was fine. He was as protective as my brother was, if not more. When we first met, he called me Sapphire because my name reminded him of various gemstones and my eyes reminded him sapphires.

I roll my eyes. "Sorry Keigo," I answer in German, "I know and I'm sorry. Everything happened so fast…"

"On top of it all, you're going to Rikkaidai," he continues his rant. "You could have come to Hyotei and would have been welcome here but no."

I let him seethe in German and finally interrupt with, "Goodness Keigo. You need to get yourself a girlfriend so you can stop worrying about me."

He leans back and extracts himself from me. "You're the only girl I need, Sapphire," he replies in Japanese while looking into my eyes solemnly.

I snort. I knew he meant that in the most brotherly and platonic way possible but his tennis players did not. Their jaws drop and I start to laugh at their assumption.

"Who is she?" one brown longhaired boy questioned bluntly.

I smirk and mimic Keigo. "Be awed by my prowess."

Keigo's right eye twitches as he fights the urge to face palm. "Sapphire…" he groans.

I grin at him cheekily and turn back towards the tennis players, "Okay, okay. Just call me Klysen."

"Where's Jirou?" Keigo asks the longhaired boy.

He just points to the stands where a person was dozing away on his back.

"Oi Keigo, give me your racket," I demand. He wordlessly hands it to me and I pick up a tennis ball near my feet. Tossing it up in the air, I bend backwards and then spring up, connecting the ball with the strings. I didn't have to watch to know that the ball was going to hit the orange haired boy on the nose.

"AHH!" he screams, bolting upright.

I smirk, twirl the racket, and hand it back to Keigo. "So, not that I mind, but why exactly am I here?" I question, ignoring the shock on the regulars' faces.

"Oh I wanted to see you. And to tell you that you're coming over this weekend because my parents want to see you. And that I'm picking you up after school today because we haven't seen each other for a while and this morning isn't enough to catch up."

My eyes widen. "No way. You are not coming to my school and picking me up. I can take a bus or something but no."

He snorts and I know it's pointless to argue.

"Ugh, fine. And how am I getting back to school? I have to be there in forty minutes."

"Helicopter or jet? Your choice."

I felt like strangling Keigo. Why couldn't he be normal? He knew very well that school would start soon and I would be forced to pick one. I felt like a caged animal as I muttered, "You win this time. Helicopter."

He smirks sadistically and I pick up my backpack and sports bag.

"Oh, I left food for Kabaji in that bag. I thought he might be missing English food," I said looking back.

I got the same monosyllabic reply I normally got but I could tell that the idea of English food made him happy. We had met through Keigo when I visited him in England and he never said anything to me other than, "Usu." Regardless, his demeanor seemed happier as I put my hands on the door to exit the courts.

"Wait!"

I paused, leaving the door half-way open.

"I…I just wanted to say you have a nice voice," said a silver-haired boy with a cross around his neck. He didn't look me in the eye, and instead stared at his feet. I didn't miss the slight pink tint on his cheeks.

I let my voice soften. "Thank you very much," and I exit the courts with a smile on my face. I would remember him.

* * *

I cursed Keigo as the helicopter deposited me onto the rooftop garden of Rikkaidai. It was my second day of school and I was not in dress code. I bounded down the stairs and pushed past the people in the hallway so I could safely slip into a bathroom to change into my uniform and the proper shoes. The stalls suddenly seemed too small as I hopped on one foot, trying to get my stockings up my feet. I missed the lack of uniforms in Portland.

I sighed as I exited the stall while fixing my tie and lugging my bags on my back. Several girls turned towards me with malicious expressions.

"What were you doing yesterday on the tennis courts, hm?"

"Yeah, and in such revealing clothing too? If you're trying to get close to the tennis team, that's never going to work."

"Sluts like you are the reason the tennis team keep the gates to the courts closed."

Revealing clothing? I guess they were talking about my swim suit. I ignored the girls as they angrily spoke and I walked out the door. Walking briskly to my class, I plopped in my seat as soon as the history teacher strode through the doorway.

I looked sideways to Azuri, who listened intently. History was always my worst subject. The awful subject was the main theme of half my nightmares. What was the point of learning about the past? I looked to the left to the other person next to me; the pinkish-redhead scribbles notes while pausing occasionally to look at the teacher. Marui, Marui Bunta. His amethyst-colored eyes are wide open as he chews his gum slowly.

I glanced to the person who sat behind him. The spiky silver-haired guy who had thrown a tennis ball at me on the rooftop garden was smirking as the teacher turned around, squatted upon her chair, and then screamed. "Puri," he says quietly as Marui chuckles.

"Classic prank, but good every time Niou," Marui whispers. Niou simply smiles back.

The teacher tries to grope at her posterior to find the thumbtack. She ends up falling backwards to my horror. I was about to stand up to help her but the door slides open and a short boy peers in.

"Teacher, I have come to deliver the message that Niou, Marui, and Klysen are to see Suzuki-sensei," he said, failing to notice the state of the teacher.

The three of us stood up before the teacher could dismiss us and hastily shoved our supplies into our backpacks, wanting to flee the awkward scene. I caught Azuri's eye and her expression said 'you better tell me what happened after.' I smile and followed Niou and Marui out the door.

I stay silent as they begin to argue about what we were being summoned for.

"Niou, it's totally your fault. You played a prank on three teachers today!" Marui exclaimed.

"What about your gum habit? That's not allowed in school either," Niou retorted.

"Why are you being roped into this, Klysen?" Marui asks, turning towards me.

My cheeks turn pink as I remember the helicopter landing on the rooftop garden a few hours before. "I may or may not have landed a helicopter on a school building," I mutter.

Marui and Niou look at each other and burst out laughing in disbelief, making me turn redder.

"Oh, and I disturbed tennis practice yesterday," I continue.

Their eyes widen.

"That was…" Niou starts.

"You?" Marui finishes.

I nod, biting my lip and grasping the straps of my bag as we walk past many classrooms.

"Well, it's been a long time since I've seen Sanada get so mad. I swore I saw a vein pop out on his forehead," Niou grins. "Congratulations, I officially respect you."

"Niou is the prankster on the tennis team. He takes pride in making the vice-captain, Sanada, mad," Marui explains before blowing a gum bubble. "Me? I'm the genius on the team."

I smile at the self-proclaimed genius and just say, "I'm sure you are."

Niou groans as Marui starts to describe his genius-like abilities.

I slide open the door to the sight of the blue-haired teenager and several others in front of a Suzuki-sensei's desk.

"Ah, Klysen. I've been waiting," he begins ominously. "What's this I hear about helicopters?"

My cheeks turn red as I try to stammer my explanation.

"Wait, you weren't joking?" Niou asks, shocked.

Suzuki-sensei starts to laugh, interrupting my stammering and the boys' whispers. "Relax, not only was it funny, but also the owner of the helicopter sent a message to the school warning us ahead of time. Sure it wasn't allowed, but we can't really blame you."

I exhale and visibly unwind, letting go of the terror of being in trouble for letting a helicopter land on the school roof.

"However," he continues while I tense up again. "I watched a couple of videos of your latest performances."

I nod and interject, "I finished cleaning the pool yesterday. It's ready for use."

"I see. However, you will not be swimming in it until tomorrow morning. I called you all here to inform you that Klysen is going to be joining your afternoon tennis practices."

I blinked back at him, confused. "What?" the other tennis regulars repeated my thoughts.

"She has experience in tennis, so I have no doubt that she will be able to keep up with your practices. She needs to do so because of her weak shoulders."

I cursed internally. Not many people noticed that while I was swimming. When I was coasting through the water, I used my legs and my torso to propel myself. My arms seemed useless half the time. He had researched me thoroughly, knowing that I used to play tennis. As shrewd as he was to pick up the minute details, I seriously doubted this idea to improve shoulder strength.

"Klysen, this is a type of training exercise. Every morning you will have swim practice starting at six and every afternoon you will train with men's tennis team. Do you understand?"

My mouth opened and nothing came out of it. "Not exactly," I whispered back while my coach looked at me expectantly. "Why the men's tennis team? The girl's team would work just fine."

Suzuki-sensei snorts. "Really? You know the answer to that question. They're too weak for you to train with and they'll inhibit your performance in the water."

"So let me get this straight," the blue-haired teen said. "You want Klysen to train with the men's tennis regulars so she can thrash around in the pool?"

"Yes Yukimura. That's exactly what I want," my coach answers with a smile.

"Very well then," he responds softly. "This will be interesting."

"You are all dismissed," the coach orders. "Klysen, you are to follow the orders of whoever is in charge of tennis practice as if I am giving you the command."

We all bow before we step through the doorway. As soon as the door is shut, a colorful array of words are spit out from my mouth in at least four different languages.

"Ugh," I moan, running my fingers through my tresses and wishing that it was socially acceptable to start banging my head against the wall.

"Heh," a curly-haired boy with green eyes smirked. "You won't last three days."

I looked at him, the over-confident boy who doubted me and I realized he was a second-year. I smirked and disheveled the hair of the slightly shorter seaweed head.

"That's not a good way to talk to your elders," I croon. "Besides, you look like an overgrown puppy, all bark and no bite."

He made a small sound, protesting.

"It will be a pleasure training with you," said a familiar voice.

I turn and see the same person who helped me move equipment yesterday, Yagyuu. I smile back gratefully, glad that one person wasn't protesting the situation.

The rest of the regulars seemed mute as we walked back to our classes. I felt awful, insignificant, and like an intruder who had no right peeking into the lives of others. I clutch my fists out of frustration and I push down the feeling of wanting to scream out of aggravation.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I had no idea this would happen. I am sorry."

The bald-headed person looks at me and said, "Relax. It will all be fine."

I give a small smile back as a response and whip out my phone to frantically text Keigo of the awful news. The bell for lunch rings and I get separated from the regulars as I get swept away with the crowd.

* * *

"Yanagi, do you know who she is now?" Yukimura asked, his mouth set into a fine line.

"Klysen Jade, middle name Sayuri, goes by both Jade or Sayuri. Age 14 and Blood type O positive. Seventy-five percent Belgian and twenty-five percent Japanese, her Japanese blood comes from her grandmother. She previously lived in Portland in the US and is fluent in several languages, though unknown exactly how many. Her brother taught her the basics of tennis and they competed together as a mixed doubles team for fun. Her brother currently goes to Cornell University in the US and, if he wishes, may go pro. She is a well-known swimmer in the age group circuit in the US and is transitioning to the senior circuit; there are several reports on her in swimming and sports magazines. She is said to be invited to the US Olympic Trials next year and may have gotten an invitation from Belgium and Japan as well. She swims in high-level meets but seemed to have withdrawn from competition two months ago, when she only went to practice and stopped competing. She only plays tennis for fun and is known for her high energy and acrobatic tricks. She is said to be extremely intelligent but dislikes showing off her intelligence. She has a sweet tooth and likes baking. Family is rich but she does not display it. She also has a connection to Atobe Keigo, but it is unsure what the connection is." Yanagi pants slightly, from saying so much in two breaths.

I blow a gum bubble, letting the familiar apple taste calm me down. Olympic Trials? She seemed like a genius, more so than I proclaimed. It seemed so unusual that a normal girl would be so accomplished. All that I truly knew, not the stuff that Yanagi spouted, was that her unusual blue eyes and auburn hair seemed to linger in my thoughts. When I was standing next to her, I smelled the combination of something sweet and chlorine. Her amazing baking skills create cream puffs that were unrivaled. Moreover, I knew that she seemed different from most girls, and that intrigued me. She was like Pocky, sweet, different textures layered on top of each other, and damn now I feel hungry.

I could see the shock reflected on Niou's face as well. "How does she manage to get a helicopter on a school roof and get away with it?" he mutters. I roll my eyes, knowing that if Niou tried, he would be stuck on cleaning duty for the rest of his life and Sanada would make him run hundreds of laps.

Kirihara pouts, put off by her friendly attitude. Ever since he was a first year, he was used to snarky attitudes towards him, doubting his abilities. He reacted with sarcasm and overconfidence. He reminded me of my brothers, which is why I tried convincing him to come back and play tennis. The boy was a focused tennis player, usually slaughtering opponents: sometimes figuratively and sometimes literally. We accepted that part of him though, knowing it was part of who he is, and we had no right to change that. Klysen had a remarkable response to him: instead of insulting him, she treated Kirihara the same way the regulars did. Sanada was too uptight to show his fondness for Kirihara, but everyone cared for the younger tennis player.

Whatever it was, Klysen was a girl to be watched. She was everything that most girls weren't.

* * *

I panted with my hands on my knees, sweat dripping down my forehead and my messy ponytail slightly waved in the light breeze. My stomach grumbled as I attempted to push away the thoughts of food and failed. I chewed my gum faster, as if that would make my stomach less empty.

"When you're done with laps," the scary vice-captain yelled, "get on the court and start tie-breaker matches! Only go to twelve points, ties are allowed!"

I moaned internally, fed up with the tennis workout and with the multiple people on the court murmuring while looking in my direction. As if I couldn't even tell. The fan girls surrounding the practice court seemed furious that I was practicing with the tennis regulars. I wiped my sweaty palms on my Nike shorts and cotton t-shirt as I picked up my racket and got on the court. Everyone had paired up and Jackal- who was ditched by his doubles partner for Kirihara-was the only one left. I poked him in the back with the racket and he turned.

"Um, can you play with me? No one else is left," I mumble, looking at my feet.

He smiles and nods and walks on to the court. I follow, still put down by today's events.

"You can serve first," I said, before walking to the other side of the net. I sigh, dejected.

Jackal throws the ball into the air and slices it with his racket, making the ball travel fast to my side of the court. I withered under the glance of the captain and vice-captain as they seemed to blame me for messing with their practice. I barely hit it back as I retreat into the depths of my mind, remembering what had happened today. Before I had realized, the ball was rolling next to my feet and the call of "1-0, Jackal," was made.

I clutched my brother's tennis rack harder in my hand and suddenly heard the voice of a person I didn't expect.

"Dirty babe, you see these shackles? Baby I'm your slave," Keigo wiggles his eyebrows as he attempts to sway his hips while warbling in his fake singing voice. His real voice was so much better but this voice was the one he used to make fun of me or embarrass me. In this case, it was the second.

My face turned red as Keigo continues to make a fool of us both outside the courts' fences. "I'll let you whip me if I misbehave," he serenades in English.

"KEIGOOO!" I thunder. I feel a vein pop on my forehead as I let all my anger from today explode.

He smirks back at me. "What, you have a problem with my singing? Tell it to me after you win the match."

My racket drops to the ground and I bend over to pick it up. Smiling, I tuck a side-bang behind my ear as I feel his reassuring presence. The captain and vice-captain walk over to talk to him, no doubt asking why an enemy captain was on their turf.

I breathe in, letting all of the negative energy escape, and open my mouth. "You're my backbone, you're my cornerstone, you're the crutch when my legs stop moving," I let the notes surge from my lips as people on the court pause to hear the sound. "You're my head start, you're my rugged heart, you're the pulse that I've always needed."

Keigo shoots a smile at me between the questions of interrogation, showing that he got what I was trying to say through the lyrics. My voice fades as I turn back to the court. It was my serve and I would not let him touch the ball. I toss the ball up, bend back, and spring up; the same way my brother taught me to serve, I pant slightly from the exertion and my shoulder aches, but I beam at the service-ace. Jackal gasps at the unexpected speed.

"Hey, you can make a call now," I said to the person sitting in the umpire chair and blowing a gum bubble.

"1-1," he stutters.

I smirk and get in position for Jackal's serve. He smacks the ball and I return it easily. My movements felt more fluid and as if I was ready to take on the world. The rally between me and Jackal intense as neither of us is willing to back down, even for a simple tie-break practice game. Jackal hits a curved shot to the opposite corner and I gasp. I wouldn't be able to reach it, unless I showed my flexibility.

I took a few running steps and launch myself parallel to the ground, reaching for the ball. I successfully hit an underspin to his open side as I use a free arm as a balance, placing it on the ground and allowing my body to somersault sideways in the air. The powerful spin I put on the ball bounces away from Jackal as he fails to hit it.

"2-1."

The intense rally continues until the game is 6-5, with me in the lead. I grin at the fact that a girl was beating Jackal and several people are watching the match, murmuring at the fact that a girl who had popped out of nowhere was somehow leading. With his several cries of "fire!" and my fluid movements in the air, the atmosphere crackled with excitement.

Jackal twisted at his wrist, removing the wristband weights. My shoulders ached with the swinging of the rackets. I threw the ball up into the air and was promptly interrupted.

"Sapphire! If you don't win this, I'm dragging you shopping!" Keigo yells.

I miss the ball, fall on my stomach, and the ball hits me on top of the head.

"Fault!"

"I DON'T WANT TO GO SHOPPING!" I scream back, horrified. The last two times forced me to go shopping with him, he dragged me to Milan and New York City. He justified the second one by insisting that he at least kept the city of choice in the same country of where I resided.

I toss the ball up and let the strings connect with the ball. The boy across the net seemed to be sweating bullets, but I felt wary, hearing from the commentary of the surrounding spectators that he was known for his stamina. The rally continues and I decide to finish it when he lobs the ball into the air.

"NO SHOPPING!" I scream, as I launch myself into the position of a smash. Jackal runs towards the baseline, anticipating the shot. I smirk and change my movements right before hitting the ball, and I let the drop shot quietly bounce on to his side of the court.

"7-5," the referee calls, shocked, "Klysen wins."

I reach across the net to shake hands with Jackal.

His hand slides into mine and looks me dead in the eye, "It seems that we underestimated you, Klysen."

"Rule one of tennis," I said, remembering what my brother had told me years ago, "don't underestimate your opponents."

The silence on the court is unnerving as Jackal and I broke our handshake.

"So," I spoke out loud, "I assume practice is over?"

The tennis regulars just blinked back at me.

"Well, I'll take that as a yes," I declare. "I'm hungry." I stop by the edge of the courts and pick up my sports bag. I wave to the regulars who are still trying to figure out what happened. I push open the gate to the court.

"I'm still taking you shopping you know," Keigo grins, sauntering over.

"I don't want to go shopping," I mutter. "We'll probably end up in London this time."

He pulls something out of his pocket. "Here, I got you these as a welcome-to-Japan present," he says, handing me the strips of paper.

"Keigo," I roll my eyes, "stop spending money on me. What did you do this time, hm?" I look at the papers and my eyes widen.

"I thought you would like it," he said.

I stare at the five 30 Second to Mars tickets and VIP passes in my hands.

"Yeah, Orange Range or something is opening for them. I don't typically like this kind of music, but I knew you would."

I throw my arms around him while I squeal, "Thank you! Thank you!" repeatedly, while clutching the papers that gave me access to one of my favorite bands, which was coming to Tokyo in two weeks.

Keigo chuckles as he wraps his arms around me and squeezes once. I hear the bushes nearby rustle suspiciously and I glance over at the plant. Keigo lets go as I walk away from him and towards the bush. Out topples several boys that I had seen this morning.

"We were just trying to find out about Atobe's girlfriend," a black haired boy smirked in a deep baritone voice while pushing up his glasses.

I laugh. "Keigo, we need to explain us to them."

He growls.

I bump hips with him, smiling. "Let's take them to a café so we can explain."

"Very well, ore-sama will show his generosity," he declares.

I roll my eyes at his narcissistic personality and the group of boys follows us towards the spacious limo.

* * *

"Jackal, you were only playing at your seventy percent strength, weren't you?" Yanagi cuts through the silence after seeing the tiebreak game with Klysen.

"I underestimated her. I should have taken off my wrist weights earlier," he said back, still shocked.

"Heh," Kirihara grins, "I take back what I said about her."

I smile, thinking about how she screamed she hated shopping. Who exactly was this girl? She shattered all my expectations; she did not seem like the blushing girl who told me that she landed a helicopter on a school building. She was not one of the fan girls who ran after me with sweets in their hands. I'm a genius, and I can't figure this girl out.

"Tarundoru!" Sanada yelled. "Jackal, you are doing extra laps for losing."

I look at her. Her strands of her auburn hair are plastered to her face by sweat as her glossy ponytail swishes when she turns her head. She suddenly clasps her arms around Atobe and he folds her into his arms. I look away from their moment. I guess she was not that different from most girls, judging from the fact that she threw herself on him. It would have been better if she ran after someone on the Rikkaidai tennis team; at least she was not a gold digger then.

"Eighty-six percent chance that they are dating. Ninety-two percent chance that they will if they aren't already," Yanagi murmurs.

I blew a gum bubble, trying to ignore the sudden pain in my chest. It must be from disappointment. Klysen disappointed me. I pushed away thoughts of her unusual eyes, clear voice, and cream puffs as I walked away from the courts. Maybe a game at the arcade would cheer me up.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorite, and followed! I am really thankful for all of the comments.

I know most people are going to think Atobe is out of character, and in a way he is. But I'm still going to make him have the pompous attitude he's famous for, just not around Jade Sayuri Klysen.

Please review, favorite, and follow!


	4. Café of Trouble

**Disclaimer: I don't own PoT.**

**I would really appreciate reviews, follows and favorites. The most helpful would be reviews because I respond well to constructive criticism.**

* * *

"Oi," I snap my fingers in front of the person with glasses, "stop looking at my legs."

Keigo growls, "Oshitari…"

He grins sheepishly across from me in the limo and pushes his glasses higher up his nose. The person on his right writhes in his seat, unable to keep still. The long-haired person on the left of Oshitari, who asked who I was in the morning, just scowls. Kabaji sits, disinterested in the people around him and the orange-haired boy next to him snores. The two other players perch on the edge of their seat, looking at the others.

I turn and raise an eyebrow at Keigo, as if to ask if these are really his best tennis players. He just mirrors me, raising an eyebrow.

The limo slows to a stop in front a small building. The short journey could have been made on foot if the drive was only five minutes, but I knew better than to tell that to Keigo, as he would have reeled in horror of walking in front of other people than me. I open the door before the chauffeur could get to it and I swore I saw his eye twitch in frustration.

"Sapphire," Keigo says smoothly, "it's their job to open the door."

"I have hands," I retort back and stroll into the café. The others just follow as Keigo shakes his head.

"I didn't expect for Atobe's girlfriend to act as if the world wasn't her servant," the brown long-haired boy mutters acerbically while plopping down into the booth. The rest of the players slide in, and Keigo and I sit at the end.

I laugh. "I'm not dating Keigo."

The rest of the tennis players drop the menus they were holding.

"He's my best friend," I said, perusing the menu for a blended ice coffee drink. "His royal airhead has known me since we were two. Currently, he wondering why he's sitting in a café he finds plebeian."

Keigo snorts in agreement. "Ore-sama finds no need to be in a place littered with commoners."

"Ah," I yawn. "Shut up Keigo. I'm hungry and it's funny to watch the waitresses eye you as their prey."

He rolls his eyes as a waitress strolls over swaying her hips and bending over to show off her low neckline.

"Hello," she purrs. "What can I get you fine men?" She eyes all of the tennis players squished into the largest booth the building had to offer. Her gaze lands on me and irritation flashes across her face as she notices I'm sitting next to the Atobe Keigo, the most well-known teenager of all of Japan and heir to Atobe Corporation.

I smirk, knowing exactly what is going through her head. "I'll have a mocha blended ice coffee drink," I start.

"With whipped cream and a bit of caramel blended in," Keigo finishes in a bored tone. "Make that one for each of us."

The waitress nods, annoyed. As the others list off their orders, she gathers the menus and then leaves with her tail between her legs, with Oshitari's eyes following.

I gently whack Oshitari with a napkin sitting on the table. "Stop staring at women's legs. At least be more discreet."

He chuckles, "If I can't look at yours, I have to look at someone's."

"So," I said, addressing the people sitting in front of me and ignoring Oshitari's comment. "Keigo is just like my brother: annoying and protective, yet oddly platonic for his narcissistic self."

"Don't you mean my beautiful, narcissistic self?" Keigo asks, with his mouth quirking up.

I roll my eyes. "See what I mean?"

"Usu."

I grin at Kabaji's sassy simple reply as some of the others drop their mouths in shock. Even Keigo wears an expression of mild surprise.

"So," I beam at the shocked tennis players, "tell me about yourselves."

"Oshitari. Oshitari Yuushi," says the person with the glasses.

"Shishido," says the brown longhaired boy.

"My name is Choutarou. Nice to meet you," murmurs the silver-haired boy who had complimented my voice earlier.

I smile back at him.

"Hiyoshi."

"Gakuto," said the boy who would not stop moving.

I turn my gaze to the boy who was snoring against the window.

"That's Jirou. He's always asleep," said Shishido, shaking his head. "He even sleeps through practice. The only time he could stay awake was when we were prepping to play practice matches with Rikkaidai."

"He sleeps a couple minutes less than he used to," Oshitari counters.

The waitress saunters over, holding our drinks. The girl who seemed to be the same age as me bends over again, trying to rub her chest into the tennis players' faces as she hands over the beverages and food. "If you need anything," she says breathily, "don't hesitate to call." She winks at Keigo, who fails to notice.

I snort as she leaves. "Desperate."

I take a sip of the drink and attempt not to moan at the sweetness that slides over my tongue. Kabaji pokes Jirou awake as he messes up his hair and yawns. I hear the jingling of the café door opening as I taste the drink again and hear familiar voices arguing.

"It's okay, Jackal will pay," a certain redhead says to a seaweed head.

"Wait, why do I have to pay?" Jackal questions, eyes wide.

"I'll pay," I interrupt, grinning and waving to trio.

Jirou attempts to jump up towards the three, waving his arms. "Marui-kun!" he yells, bug-eyed and a grin stretching across his face.

"Pull up a seat," I gesture towards the end of the booth.

The three pull up seats and plop down unceremoniously. Jirou instantly start blabbering to Marui about him being a genius and volleys while Jackal sits quietly. Kirihara just smirks at everyone, sprawled in his chair, emerald eyes reflecting his carefree attitude.

I nudge Jackal. "No hard feelings about this afternoon?"

He smiles back, "Yeah."

The waitress saunters over for the third time and passes out the menus to the trio. I smirk as she leaves, amused in her frustration of my existence.

"Keigo, do me a favor and give the waitress your number," I said, sipping my drink.

The regulars freeze and instantly fall silent.

"Why?"

"Because if looks could kill, she would have stabbed me three times already," I muse. "She thinks we're going out."

Oshitari smiles. "I didn't think you were aware."

"Ore-sama knows he's attractive, but why does everyone think that ore-sama is dating you?" he asks, playing with his straw.

"Because ore-sama," I reply sarcastically, "is a royal airhead to fails to establish who I am."

"What do you want me to do? Tell every person who sees us that you're my best friend? I don't have to tell everyone that Kabaji is my other best friend."

"Kabaji isn't a girl. Therefore, in essence, yes. I don't fancy being mauled by fan girls or kidnapped by people wanting money."

"Fine, give me a napkin and a pen," he sighs, giving up.

"Don't you have your own business card?" I smile back, bemused.

The waitress returns, with a pitcher of water in her hand and a scheming grin on her face. As the trio order, she leans over and I feel the cool water spill over my face and on to my shirt. My good mood vanishes as I realize that she did that on purpose.

Keigo springs up. "What do you think you're doing?" he yells, realizing the intent.

I look down at my white t-shirt as it clings to my skin. As Keigo starts to rant, I cover my chest with my arms and my cheeks feel warm.

"How dare you do that to ore-sama's company? This is ridiculous!" he rants. I simply tug at his arm, trying to get him to sit down. I can feel the white t-shirt plastered to my chest and I bite my lip, trying to shrink out of existence. The rest of the Hyotei team attempts to pacify Keigo as he continues to fume and the waitress stutters, red, claiming that it was an accident.

I feel the stares of other people in the restaurant because of my now see-through shirt and Keigo's demand to see the manager. Someone taps my shoulder and I turn towards him, not able to look him in the face.

"Here," he mumbles, throwing a red jacket over my shoulders. The fruity apple scent swirls around me as I clutch it, gratefully, slide my arms into the sleeves and pull the zipper up.

"Thank you," I mumble back, cheeks red while I try to look into his amethyst eyes and fail miserably.

Marui nods with a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks and turns towards the waitress. He cuts through the argument politely, "Not to be rude, but can we get our orders?"

The waitress runs away from the scene. She obviously didn't expect the uproar that came with spilling water on me and must have thought I would leave to go to the bathroom and leave all of the tennis players to her discretion.

Keigo sighs, sitting back down, "You're all wet now."

"I'm a swimmer. I'm always wet," I reply with a small smile.

"That's what she said," Mukahi mutters while drumming his fingers against the table.

I can't help but snicker at the joke while Shishido comments in his usual scathing tone, "That was super lame."

The group collapses back into comfortable conversation with Kabaji sitting silently and Jirou exclaiming about how cool Marui-kun is.

"Keigo?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"I'm paying."

His head snaps up. "No you're not."

"Yes."

"No."

"If you don't let me, I'll show them a picture of you in a dress."

His face blanched, "Fine."

Kirihara whistles and grins, "You're almost as good in blackmailing as Niou-senpai."

I smile sadistically. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't," Marui wags his finger, "it means that he'll start a prank war with you."

The waitress scurries in front of the table with the trio's order with her head down and remaining meek.

With my good mood returning, I nudge Keigo and motion to the waitress with my head. He shakes his head, as if to say 'no, not after that incident.' I mouth the word dress and his face blanches again. He pulls out his wallet, takes out a business card, and hands it to the waitress.

"Call me," he says, not looking at her. She clutches the card and visibly brightens.

"Can you bring the check please?" I ask. She nods and scampers off.

I pull out my phone and play with the swimmer charm on it. Handing it to him, I said, "Open it."

He opens and sees the picture. He snaps the phone closed and shuts his eyes, as if in denial. I grab the phone out of his hand and slide it to Oshitari before Keigo could protest. Oshitari flips it open and bursts into laughter at the sight of his captain in a frilly pink frock and me smiling next to him, innocently, in a tuxedo. He passes the phone around the table and the majority of Hyotei players snicker at the view of a younger Atobe Keigo.

His eye twitches, "Sapphire…" he says in a warning tone.

I flutter my eyelashes back. "You were going to take me shopping. You know how much I hate shopping. Plus, you gave the waitress a number to your I'm-never-answering-these-calls phone."

He grits his teeth. "You weren't supposed to notice that. Now we're definitely going shopping this weekend."

I roll my eyes. "Where to this time? Barcelona? London?"

"This time I'm showing you the horrors of shopping in Tokyo."

I fake-gulp. "Now Keigo, let's not get hasty."

"No way. You beat me and I'll just squash you."

I grin. "Oh? We're not talking about shopping and pictures of you in dresses anymore, are we? Are you thinking about that tennis game we played when we were seven?" I tease.

"We were seven! I would beat you now!" he protests.

"Gekokujou," Hiyoshi murmurs, folding his arms above his head.

"Exactly," Keigo agrees. "But she never cared about winning for tennis. It was just fun for her. She could be amazing if she cared."

I shrug. "You know you would slaughter me now. I'll leave the tennis to you and my brother. He says hi, by the way."

The waitress slides the check on to the table. I grab the check, toss my credit card on top, and hand it back to her. She seizes it and dashes off.

"You're paying for all of us?" Choutarou asks, with his eyes wide. "That's not right."

I shrug. "Yeah, it's my treat. It's my way of saying sorry to Keigo for not telling him I was in Japan and sorry to you guys for making you think I was Keigo's girlfriend." I turn toward the Rikkaidai trio, "And it's my way of saying sorry for messing with your practice."

Murmurs of "you didn't have to," and "really, you shouldn't have," and "man, you're better than Marui-senpai," echo around the table. Keigo keeps his mouth shut, still slightly annoyed that I showed them the picture.

I smile and wave it off, "It's fine. Besides, I enjoyed meeting you all."

"Hey! What do you mean Klysen is better than me?" Marui challenges Kirihara.

"Yeah, I'm the one that pays anyways," Jackal mutters.

"Sapphire, I'm not mad at you for not telling me," Keigo said quietly in German, so that only I could hear, while sliding his hand over mine and squeezing. "I was just worried about you. Even I'm sad. They were great people. And as happy as you act right now, you're in denial of what happened."

I shoot him a downcast smile. "Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them," I whisper in English, with my voice catching in my throat.

"George Eliot," he murmurs back in his British accent. "Also known as Mary Ann Evans. One of the most brilliant British women of her time."

The waitress severs the conversation by sliding my card across the table and I tuck it back into my wallet that was hiding in the waistband of my shorts.

I stand and spoke in a lighter tone, "Well, it's been great meeting new people but I have homework to do. I'll just grab my bags from the car and walk home."

Keigo shoots me a glare, "No, you're being driven home."

I stick out my tongue. "Make me," and dash out of the café with a smile on my face. I pretend not to hear the yell of "Sapphire!" before I exit through the door.

I chuckle to myself, knowing that Keigo probably wants to run after me, but is debating not to because I had already taken him down a couple of pegs in front of his team. I snatch my bags from the limo before the chauffer could say anything and set off towards my flat. The chauffer probably hates me for not letting me do his job.

"Klysen-senpai!"

I turn around and Kirihara waves as the two older tennis players walk behind him. I wait for the three to catch up.

"Thank you for the food Klysen-senpai!" Kirihara grins, strolling alongside me.

"Yeah, thanks," Jackal mumbles. "For once I didn't have to pay."

I ruffle the seaweed head's hair. "You really are like a puppy. One nice deed and you're following me around," I tease and then frown. "Is your hair normally like this? It looks like a swimmer's."

"Yeah. It's kind of annoying."

"What are you talking about? That's awesome. All the style without any of the damage. You're lucky," I grin at him. "Wish my hair was like that."

He looks at me seriously with his emerald green eyes. "Most people laugh at it."

"If you like it, that's all that matters," I smile at him.

"You're cheesy," Marui commented.

"It's one of my not-so-fine points. Like dancing. Or history. Or art," I reply.

"I have no weak points," Kirihara boasts, pointing at himself with his thumb.

Jackal scoffs. "Tell that to your English grade."

Kirihara deflates like a punctured balloon. "I wasn't talking about school-wise," he mumbles, kicking a pebble.

"Well," Jackal tugs at Kirihara's arm, "this is our street. See you tomorrow."

"Bye!" I wave.

The two walk away and the gum-chewer strolls alongside me in a comfortable silence.

"Marui-kun?" I interrupt the quiet.

"Just call me Marui, Klysen."

"Well, Marui, does the captain usually have back pain and issues walking sometimes?" I inquired.

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"Your captain was rubbing his lower back today in practice. And he had some unsteady steps."

"Not normally, no. He probably just slept in a weird position. Or maybe still recovering from being sick last week," he replied.

"Oh, okay."

The calm lull in conversation once again takes over, as the occasional bird chirps and crickets sound during the beginning of dusk.

"You're different, you know?" he says, looking up at the sky streaked with orange and pink.

"How?" I ask, surprised.

"Most girls dislike Kirihara after seeing his snarky personality. And most girls would try to flirt with everyone on the team if allowed in the courts. And honestly, I could go on for hours," he said, not looking me in the eye. "But you might run in the other direction if you see Kirihara play an actual game."

"Why would I do that?"

"Come see us play on Saturday. You'll understand."

"I will after swim practice," I promise. "Although, I'm not sure the other team members would be so happy to see me there."

He shrugs and blows a gum bubble. "They'll warm up to you eventually. Most of them are not used to girls not screaming, 'I love you! Date me and love me!' every time they pass by."

"That must be really annoying. I'm used to cute little kids coming up to me and hugging me," I smile fondly, remembering my last meet in the US.

"I wouldn't mind that. I get enough from my little brothers when they try to distract me from their mischief," he said and then curses, "the little devils."

I chuckle. "Aren't all siblings?"

"They wouldn't be so bad if Niou didn't teach them his ways. Now they want to grow rat-tails, say 'Puri' or 'Piyo,' and slip fake spiders down girls' shirts," he rolls his eyes.

"The rat-tails are obviously the worst part," I joke. "So 1980."

Marui shudders. "Great music but awful choices in, well, everything else. And twenty years before my favorite band existed."

"Which is?" I said.

"Orange Range. They're playing along with another band American band in Tokyo in two weeks. I tried getting tickets but they're sold out."

"Yeah, with 30 Seconds to Mars," I reply, remembering Keigo's gift which was now stowed away in my backpack. "My favorite band."

"Well that sucks," he said. "We can't see our favorite bands."

"I don't see why not," I reply. "I have extra tickets."

My words register in my head and I realized I sounded like I was asking him out. My cheeks turn pink.

"Not like that though," I add hastily. "You know, as friends?"

His cheeks turn crimson too. "Yeah, sure. Sounds fun."

I look up from my feet and spot my flat.

"Well, bye Marui," I said. "This is my flat."

I quickly escape from the awkward situation I put myself in and jab at the lock on my door with the key. Shutting the door, I flee from the outside world and the redhead outside my abode. I peek through the window next to the door. The redhead turns around and walks in the direction had come from minutes earlier. Why would he do retrace his steps?

I kick off my shoes and realize I was still clad in his bright crimson regular's jersey. Cursing my luck, I facepalm but do not take it off because of the comforting fruity apple scent rising from the fibers of the jacket that was a little too big on my frame.

I hear the doorbell ring and I fling it open, thinking he had returned for his jersey. "Marui, I'm so sorry-"

Azuri smiles in front of me, bemused. "Marui? And are you wearing a tennis regular's jersey?"

"Um," I run my fingers through my drying hair and answer sheepishly. "It's kind of a long story."

I step aside and motion for her to come in.

"You free next weekend? Not this coming one, but the week after?" I inquire, somewhat desperately.

"Oh no way girl, you are not changing the subject on me." She grins sadistically, "I want to know everything."

"Fine, but you have to come to a concert with me," I beg.

She sits on the couch, I let the recollection of the whole day pour out of my mouth, and Azuri just laughs and laughs.

"And that's why," I finish the rant, "you have to come to the concert with me."

* * *

I looked up at the setting sun, thinking about the events from the last two hours. Kirihara had insisted that he was hungry and tagged along with me and Jackal to go get food. I only shrugged, thinking that sugar could take off the edge from the pangs in my chest. Little did I know that the Hyotei regulars in the same café would surround the same girl who disappointed me.

I had kept my mouth shut, quietly dealing with my mood, when she told us to sit down with her. Jackal could tell that something was wrong as Jirou had started to talk to me, and sent me worried glances time to time. I listened to the easy conversation between everyone until the narcissist asks why everyone thinks he's dating Klysen.

"What do you want me to do?" the egomaniac had asked. "Tell every person who sees us that you're my best friend?"

I froze. Best friend? She was his best friend? My mind had flashed back to the end of practice when she hugged Atobe. That was supposed to be a friendly gesture? I had studied her face, seeing nothing but fondness for the narcissist sitting across from her, not reverence or adoration like most fan girls. The pangs in my chest disappear as I had let the realization of them just being friends sink in.

I smile to myself, kicking a pebble on the ground while walking home. I had felt so stupid as the awareness had sunk in that the Hyotei regulars had followed Atobe because they made the same assumption I had.

I let the waitress take my order while I still gazed at her. The waitress had tipped the pitcher of water on her head and drenched her in the white shirt, making it pretty much see through. She had turned red out of embarrassment and while the braggart was yelling at the waitress, I had stripped off my red regulars jersey and draped it over her shoulders, not caring at the way Jackal and Kirihara were shocked at my actions.

She had paid for all of us, and I wanted to protest but she said it was her way of apologizing for messing with our practices. I couldn't bring myself to say what I had thought, I couldn't say that she wasn't messing with our practices but making them interesting. Tolerable. Today was the one day that Niou hadn't pranked someone, and that Sanada was off his edge, just because she was in the tennis courts, training alongside us.

When she stood up and ran out, the narcissist had yelled after her. Jackal, Kirihara, and I knew it was time for us to leave too as we got up and Jackal excused the three of us. I hadn't expected Kirihara to run up to her and for us to walk home together. When Jackal and Kirihara had left for their street, I didn't know what to say to the girl clad in my regular's jacket. Her wet auburn hair had framed her face and I couldn't help but notice the contrast between the jacket and her eyes. I couldn't help but blurt out that she was different, and thankfully she remained oblivious to the real meaning behind that word, that she was interesting. I couldn't help but sink into an easy conversation and laugh at her sarcasm as we had walked past my house. I could help but ignore that fact and walk her home.

When I couldn't help when my cheeks got warm when she had asked if I wanted the extra concert ticket, I knew I was in trouble. She had clarified that she meant the invitation as a friend and had promptly escaped the awkward situation by going into her flat, she too realizing how she had sounded while asking.

So here I am now, shuffling home after turning around and retracing the path that we had taken minutes earlier.

I flip out my phone and punch in a number to speed dial and huff impatiently as it rings.

"Yo," Niou answers. "Sorry that I couldn't come with you three after practice. My parents needed to tell me something."

"It's cool," I answer. "Guess who I ran into?"

"Lemme guess. Klysen?"

My brow furrows. "How did you know?"

"A bunch of girls texted me about how they saw you, Jackal, and Kirihara, along with Hyotei people, in a café with her."

I roll my eyes at his network of girls that give him all the information he ever needs. "Yeah, turns out Yanagi was wrong. She's not dating Atobe. They are best friends."

"How is anyone friends with someone so narcissistic?"

"He's not full of himself around her. Matter of fact, she showed us a picture of him in a dress," I grin, remembering Atobe's face when he saw the picture. "She's not like the fan girls, Niou. She's different."

"Yeah, I noticed. I can't read her. Sanada seems confused as to why she can look him in the face and not run in the other direction."

I snort. "So that makes three people that aren't scared of him: you, Klysen, and Yukimura. Speaking of Yukimura," I remember, "can you watch him to see if he has muscle weakness tomorrow? Klysen said she noticed him slightly unbalanced."

"Yeah I'll watch him during practice. It's probably nothing though," he said dismissively. "By the way, I taught your brothers the cups-of-water trick last weekend. You know, when you walk into a room and the floor is covered with cups of water?"

"Niou…" I growl.

"Puri!" he blurts into the phone and hangs up.

I groan, not looking forward to cleaning up after my brothers.

* * *

**Please read, review, and favorite! It would mean a lot to get some criticism.**

**I know this seems like filler, but it's not. It'll be more obvious next chapter.**


	5. Breaking the Blue Mirror

**Disclaimer: I do not own PoT or Speedo.**

* * *

The world seemed to stop for a few measly moments as I floated in the air, parallel to the light blue mirror underneath me. Then, gravity took over and the light blue mirror broke with a splash turned into turbulent waves. I shivered from the water's temperature as I eased through the water for the first time since I left Portland. My dark green Nike swimsuit became drenched in water as the reflective goggles pulled over my navy swim cap allowed me to see the bottom of the six-feet-deep pool that was barely illuminated by the rising sun. I had the three-laned, twenty-five yard tank to me, myself, and I, during my first day of practice in Japan.

I felt like right now, all I represented the pool. My clear, calm surface hid the potential turbulence. All that everyone could see was the placid top, but once someone pierced the surface, he or she would see my raw emotions that I had been hiding for two months. Keigo saw that and pointed it out yesterday, claiming that I was in denial.

So what if I was in denial? That was a healthy process of grieving, right? The thoughts swirling in my head slowly start to dissolve into nothingness.

Being a swimmer was the closest a person could get to flying. You feel weightless. Liberated. Like you shed all of your negativity before breaking the surface of the water. It is the ultimate escape from the troubles that plague you. People think of blankness like a white, empty room. They are wrong; the best feeling in the world is the blankness that consumes your very being while you swim. You feel this overwhelming sense of calmness and emptiness.

I grasp the wall and look up, panting slightly after the five hundred yard warm-up. My arms and legs felt like dead weights from the lack of practice.

"Pull out your paddles and pull buoy," Coach Suzuki says. "Your hands' entry into the water seems off. Reach out more with your hand before sliding into the water."

I curse, knowing that the drill will strain my shoulders. I let the foam piece of the buoy sit between my squeezed thighs and jam my fingers into the straps of the paddles. He chuckles, noticing my angst.

"We'll take it relatively easy today. I need to check out your strokes in person and you need to get used to the conditioning that tennis is giving you. Practices will slowly get harder though, and you have a meet in two weeks," he announces.

I grin. "So, can we work on dives and flipturns?" I say hoping that he would let us work on the easiest, yet most crucial part of competitive swimming.

He rolls his eyes, probably remembering when he was a swimmer asking for the same thing. "At the end of practice. But I'm watching every hand entry, and they better be right or you're doing laps of lunges. There's no time limit, just go slow, and concentrate."

I groan, adjust my silver goggles, and push off the wall into a streamline. The gliding of the water against my skin takes over my mind once more. I let my hands gently slide into the water until the wall that is about to high-five my face interrupts me. Tucking my head to my chin, I do a half somersault and let my feet push off the wall. The process repeats repeatedly as my head remains clear and focused on my hands. I stop counting laps and just let the flowing liquid lull me into a sense of robotic tedium, instilling the movement of my hands and arms into muscle memory. My steady breathing every few strokes lets me see the sunrise.

I hear a sharp whistle and stop at the wall. Looking up, I see Coach Suzuki crouching down on the poolside. Unlike most sports, swimming requires a special relationship between the coach and swimmer. The coach becomes almost like an uncle or aunt as he or she trains athletes to their top shape. I was hoping Coach Suzuki would be the same way, even though in Japan's social structure, the closeness between a student and an instructor is almost unheard of.

"You're lucky," he smirks. "You only messed up twice, so only two laps of lunges."

I growl and rip off the equipment connected to my body and lift myself out of the pool. I let my knees bend into the horrid position that tormentors like to call lunges. Moving slowly around the pool, I can feel my legs slowly turning sore on the second lap. I shake my legs, letting the blood flow and jump back into the pool when I am finished.

"Ok, I want to see your other strokes in person, so just start out with a fifty yard butterfly. The second twenty-five yards should be fast," he said, rubbing his chin.

I nod and thrust my legs against the pool wall, letting the impact propel me through the water as I began the steady, yet quick movements that made me feel like a dolphin prancing in the ocean's waves. With my arms stretching in front of me, I let the undulations from my hips push me through the water. I loved butterfly, but I hated how it hurt my shoulders. I look up after the fifty yards.

"Same thing, backstroke," he responds.

I let my arms do a slow windmill and transition into a fast one as I looked at the sky above.

"Breaststroke," he declares after I finish.

I grimace and push off the wall. I loathed this stroke. My legs always felt awkward in the kick and my arms barely displace water. I could never get the timing right, even if I could do the stroke somewhat correctly.

I look up and Coach Suzuki is chuckling. "So that's why I couldn't find a video of you doing breaststroke."

I look back at him, exasperated and sullen. My previous coaches did not like entering me in breaststroke or IM events, which stood for individual medley, a mixture of all strokes. They used to claim that there was no need to swim in something I was not good at.

"Don't look at me like that," he grins. "Get out and we'll work on dives."

My edges of my mouth curl up slightly as I push myself out of the pool and get on the diving block. Water droplets run down my body as I adjust my goggles and bend over, getting into position. My fingers grip the edge of the slightly tilted platform along with the toes of my right foot, ready to let my body hurl into the air.

"No," he mutters, tapping my left foot that is extended behind me. "Move your left foot to the right a bit and no need to have it so far behind you." He pushes my left foot forward.

I suddenly lose balance and topple over the edge of the diving block and into the water.

Pushing back to the surface of the pool, I sputter and puff for air as Coach Suzuki bends over laughing.

I lift myself out of the water and mutter, "It wasn't that funny."

At that, he laughs even harder and gasps, "Yes it was."

My eyes narrow as I balance on top of the block again, in the proper position, with my left foot closer to my body.

"Take your mark," he yells and pauses.

I let my muscles contract as I pull myself closer to the diving block with my arms, ready to jump over the water.

"Go!"

My muscles uncoil and I spring forward with my arms extended in front of me, cutting through the waves. I let my body float to the surface.

"You're too tense," he observed. "Try taking deeper breaths on the block and let your muscles stay loose."

I nod. And I let the process of getting on top of the block and jumping into the water repeat and repeat and repeat. Swimming is a repetitive sport, which is why many people get bored with it easily. It requires a lot of practice and can be tedious or dull sometimes.

"That's enough," Coach Suzuki claps once. "You're done for today. Since you're the only person who swims for Rikkaidai, you're automatically captain and a regular."

He hands me papers that were stapled together.

"Here are the forms for Rikkaidai's team suit, warmup jacket and pants and bag, and the information about the team. Normal swim bags do not have room for you to put your racket in, but I found a design that could accommodate it so you can use the bag daily. Because we do not have that much funding, we don't have them in multiple colors like other sports teams. As you know, swimming is both an individual and team sport, so even though you are the only person on the team, you can advance to regionals and nationals by qualifying swims."

I nod and slide them into my sports bag that lay on the poolside, so not to get them wet. "Thank you very much, Coach."

"Go get showered up and ready for class. The girl's showers are on the west side of the building and have a separate entrance."

I fold a towel around me, shove my equipment into my bag, and rip off my goggles and cap. "Thank you again!" and I dash off, desperately wanting to wash off the chlorine.

I pick a route to the showers that will let the minimal amount of people see me, knowing that I would probably be reported for indecency if students saw a glimpse of me running around with wet hair, clad in just a swim suit and a towel. My bags bounce on my back as I race across campus behind a wall of trees, blocking me from the crowd of students filing in early for school. I whip open the door to the locker room that was labeled as being the girl's and grab my shampoo, conditioner, and soap.

Since there were no girls in the room, I throw my sports bag and my backpack to the side and enclose myself in a shower. I let the water rain down upon me as I got ready for school. There was no point in taking off my suit, because I knew that I could either wash it while I was wearing it, therefore letting me not stand naked in the locker room, or I could let the chlorine radiate off of it all day in my bag. I hummed quietly, letting the vanilla scent of the soap surround me as I scrubbed my scalp.

I shook my head, letting beads of water fly as I moved my wet strands of hair out of my face. I wrapped myself in my towel again, and pulled on my school clothes at the same time as I pulled off my swim suit. It was a skill that most swimmers had, allowing us to change in public without indecent exposure. I was too lazy to put on makeup, and twisted my hair into a bun, getting everything but my bangs out of my face and showing off my fake diamond studs.

My plastic deck passes from previous meets clicked together on my sports bag as I ran out of the locker room. The cards let swimmers on to the deck of the pool and served as identification for swim officials. was awfully fond of the plastic cards because they served as a souvenir from most major meets.

I pull out the forms and look at the designs for the bag, swimsuit, and warm-up sweats. The simple black Speedo swimsuit had the Japanese spelling for Rikkaidai across the chest in red and I sighed in relief. I was glad that the suit was not super flashy, because they brought unnecessary attention. The matching black swim cap also had the label of Rikkaidai. I flipped the page over and saw the warm-up sweats. The pants were red with a black stripe down the side and the jacket was half-red with a black band around the chest, and white shoulders and sleeves. The name of the school was to be on the back of the thick black stripe and my name stitched on the front of it. I smiled at the simple, elegant designs, glad that the coach and I had the same mindset. The bag was a normal black swim bag with an extra pocket in the back, allowing for the handle of my racket to stick out.

Looking down at the designs, I bumped into the back of a blue-haired guy and froze, hoping it wasn't who I thought it was.

Him and a few other guys in the crowd of students shuffling into the main school building turn around and look at me. I could hear a few girls in the crowd whisper about how I dared to dirty Yukimura-sama's uniform.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I wasn't paying attention."

His small smile remained the same on his face as he nodded and replied, "It is fine." He turned around and kept walking and I marched behind the group of tennis players.

"Your hair is wet," Kirihara observed with his fingers outstretched, touching strands of my bangs. "You'll catch a cold, Klysen-senpai."

"I'm a swimmer. Our hair is always wet," I shrug and stuff the designs into my backpack. "We don't catch colds from wet hair."

I pull out Marui's jacket, neatly folded around a box with salted caramel cream puffs. Handing it to him, I mutter, "Thank you for yesterday."

He nods, looking away. "You're welcome."

"Bye Kirihara. I have to go get my school shoes," I ruffle his hair as he sticks out his tongue at me. I grin and walk off towards the shoe lockers.

* * *

"So," Niou smirks. "Is there a reason why she had your jersey? Does she have any of your other clothes?"

I glare back at him, not knowing how to answer as I stuff the jacket into my bag. I look at Jackal, trying to prompt him to answer but he just smiled and shook his head, refusing to enter into the conversation.

"He was being nice because she was wet and cold," Kirihara piped up. "She got drenched in water by a waitress and she was embarrassed and Marui gave her his jacket."

I internally sigh in relief at his answer.

"Oh?" Niou teases, waggling his eyebrows at me. "Marui is such a gentleman."

I wanted to facepalm. "Her shirt was white, Niou. Her shirt was wet and _white_."

He puts his hands behind his head. "Isn't that just a better reason for you not give her your jacket?"

I roll his eyes at his perverted comment as Kirihara chimes in, "I don't get it."

Niou shakes his head. "Yagyuu is rubbing off on you Marui. Giving a girl your jacket is totally his move."

"Enough," Sanada thunders. "Get to class."

We hurried away from the shoe lockers, not wanting to be on Sanada's bad side.

* * *

**Please read and review!**

**I'm sorry if you didn't understand some of the swimming jargon. Feel free to PM me and ask about it!**

**I hope no one is too averse to the swimming part of the chapter. I thought it was necessary to describe in detail at least once, because it added more depth to the character.**

**Sorry for the short chapter!**


	6. T'was the Night Before Tennis Districts

**Disclaimer: I do not own PoT or Apple or Buggati.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Yo," I said, interrupting the vibrating from my vintage flip phone. My brother had begged me to get an iPhone before I left, but I had refused. I guess I was just an old school kind of person.

"Hey."

I recognized the voice instantly and frowned while standing on the tennis courts of Rikkaidai, sweating. "Isn't it like one in the morning over there?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't wait any longer to tell you the news."

That is odd; he's usually the patient one out of us two. My grandmother always poked my cheeks and told me to act more like my brother.

"What's up?" I could see the glares from the other tennis regulars as I talked in English for the first time in days.

"Jade. I'm going to be playing in the French Open."

I nearly drop my phone. "WHAT?" I can't help but explode as a bunch of curse words tumble out of my mouth in excitement. I look like an idiot, jumping up and down during a boy's tennis practice with English words pouring out my mouth. I couldn't care less because not only was practice almost over, but this was the first time I had heard from my brother in days.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I'm going in a couple of weeks. I'm nervous though. I don't think you can miss school to come see but I'll call you every day and after every match. I promise."

I blink back tears, remembering how he had walked out of the tennis court during a tournament when he found out the news about my parents. He had not competed officially since then, just as I had not gone to a single swim meet. He took out all of his frustration during training and never let me see his upset face.

"I'll call you later because I'm in practice. I love you," I say, still shocked.

I throw the phone into my bag and sink to my knees.

"Are you ok, Klysen-senpai?" Kirihara shakes my shoulder.

I blink back tears that I had held in from worry over my brother from the last two months. One escapes the clutches of my lower eyelid and drips down my cheek and on to the hard court below.

"Oi, don't cry!" Niou exclaims, bending down next to me.

A grin slowly starts to unfurl across my face. "My brother, my brother is going to the French Open," I stammer in Japanese. "He's going to the French Open." I said the words repeatedly, not caring that I looked like a mental patient on my knees on the tennis court.

"What's the problem here?" Yukimura's voice cuts through sharply, annoyed with the interruption in practice.

"My brother is going to the French Open," I said beaming, even with Yukimura's mood. "He's going to the French Open."

Marui blinks, confused. "Then why are you crying?"

"I have no idea," I laugh and then murmur again. "He's going to the French Open."

"Twenty laps for disturbing practice," Sanada grunts.

I can't wipe the grin off my face as I jump up and jog around the tennis courts. My straining, sore legs seem to magically gain energy on the sticky Friday afternoon. Strands of my hair that had escaped from my ponytail whipped around my face and the sun beat down on my back. I must smell awful.

The last few days, I had fallen into the routine of swim practice, school, tennis practice, and then homework. The tedious schedule ate up my time. The little spare time I had, I thought of Portland and what had happened two months ago.

True to Marui's words, the regulars had slowly started opening up to me as I went to more tennis practices. Marui and Niou talked to me during class, Kirihara never failed to bring a smile to my face during practice, and Jackal and Yagyuu always asked how I was. I could even see less tension behind Yukimura's façade of a smile but Sanada still treated me like the enemy. I still couldn't figure out Yanagi, and frankly I am confused about how he never tripped over anything even though his eyes are always closed.

The loyal fangirls who watched the practice still squealed and fanned themselves every time regulars looked towards the fence they leaned against. I pretended that I couldn't hear the whispers of "dirty foreigner" and "slut" directed towards me.

I watch the last few minutes of practice as I pant, running around the fence encircling the tennis courts. Yukimura was practicing along with everyone else for once, and I could tell he was a bit slower than everyone else was. He stumbled slightly after hitting a ball during a drill and rubbed his lower back. When the regulars were sure that he was fine and turned away, he looked down at his hands. I narrowed my eyes while slowing my jogging and could see that his hands were shaking. Was this the true captain of Rikkaidai's national level tennis team?

I push open the door to the courts and stroll over to where Yukimura is standing, sipping from his water bottle.

"You know," I said quietly, "there's no shame in going to the doctor to check on the state of your muscles."

His face snaps towards me, the façade of his smile plastered on his face. His eyes narrowed, as if I was the reason for his angst. His smooth tone drops slightly to a growl, "What are you talking about?"

"Muscle weakness, numbness in hands and possibly feet, you're tired more easily, and back issues," I murmur. "Marui said you were sick last week too, and your body should have fully recovered by now."

He turns away, as if he was dismissing me.

I reach out and grab his arm and he keeps walking. "You can't feel my hand can you?" I question.

He looks down and brushes my hand off.

"Go to the doctor. No one will think you are weak," I urge softly.

His eyes soften and his usual guise takes over his face. "I am fine. Thank you for your concern."

I nod and turn away, giving up. If he did not want my advice, there was no point in giving it. I wish he would listen though, because I did not want him in the condition I was in. I was lucky enough to have a problem that didn't hold me back from swimming or school, but that did not mean that it was not a problem that doctors watched.

"Be at the tennis courts at the local park tomorrow by ten!" Sanada yells and claps. "Practice is over."

I pick up my bags and throw them over my shoulder, ignoring the looks I was getting from the club members and the fangirls because I talked to Yukimura. I rip out the elastic from my hair as I stomp away from the tennis courts, letting my natural half-wavy hair spill over my face.

I push my headphones into my ears and crank up the volume on my iPod classic to wash away some of the stress that the school week had built. My shoulders were incredibly sore and I bobbed my head to the upbeat music, stepping over the cracks in the sidewalk. The notes rushed by as song after song played into my ears as I walked away from the school and my flat.

I look up at the building in front of me, simply labeled as 'Swim Store,' in Japanese. I tug out my headphones, pushed open the door, and came face-to-face with bright colors and bikinis on models. I wrinkle my nose; why name it 'Swim Store' if you advertise bikinis and recreational swimming items? Strolling directly to the back, I looked around for a store attendant.

"Hi," I spoke in Japanese, "I am here to pick up the orders for Rikkaidai Middle School."

"Ah, yes. I have your packages right here," the middle-aged woman smiles. She hands me the bulky items in a huge paper bag filled with warm-up sweats, a swimsuit, a swim bag, and other swim paraphernalia.

I internally sigh at the bag, and hold out my only free hand as one was already securing my sports duffel and backpack on my back. I grasp the bag and walk right out of the store with a quick, "Thank you!"

The bulky, paper bag bounces against my leg as I stroll toward my flat and past the school again. Honestly, my future job should be being an ox or a horse. With all the stuff I was carrying, I must be a perfect fit for their jobs.

"Klysen!"

The call of my name interrupts my silent cursing of my bags and I willed myself for the scratch on my nose to go away, as I did not want to put the bag in my hand down.

I turn and see Kirihara, Marui, Jackal, and Niou strolling towards me, three of them with wet hair. They must have showered after practice.

"Hi," I smile.

They wave back and Marui swipes the bulky paper bag from my hand.

"What's this?" he questioned and blew a gum bubble.

"Feminine stuff," I lie with a grin.

He throws it back towards me, disgusted and disturbed. I laugh at his reaction.

"I was joking," I chuckle. "It's swimming stuff."

"Keep the bag away from Niou," Jackal warns. "Unless if you want to find spiders or worms in it. Maybe even a rubber snake."

I roll my eyes. "Lame. Can't come up with better pranks, can you Niou?"

He lifts his right eyebrow, amused. "Is that a challenge?"

"No, I'm fine," I reply hastily, remembering how he managed to get the teacher to sit on a thumbtack on the first day of school.

Niou smirks, "Piyo."

"Klysen-senpai, are you coming to the tournament tomorrow?" Kirihara asks, turning his emerald eyes towards me.

"If you want me to, I can. The swim coach gave me the day off tomorrow to rest my shoulders," I reply. He probably actually gave me the day off because of the difficult practices that he'd been giving me. He was targeting all of my weakest areas to make me a more well-rounded swimmer, saying that working my weaknesses would make my stronger strokes faster too.

"You should," Kirihara grinned. "You'll see how awesome I am."

We all roll our eyes at his boasting.

"Anyways," Jackal interrupts. "We have to go. We have a meeting at my place because Marui volunteered my house. Sorry Klysen."

I wave and the boys follow the bald Brazilian.

The three bags I am carrying continue to pull on my shoulders as I walk to my flat and my stomach grumbles from lack of food.

The worst part of being a swimmer is the amount we eat. During rigorous training, I turn into a bottomless pit and devour anything and everything, regardless of the taste. During lunches in school, I had to eat twice of what the normal girl did, so I could survive through the end of tennis practice. Most girls would be revolted at the amount I eat. Lucky for me, Azuri thought this was hilarious and sometimes teased me about how I ate more than guys.

Too bad I had to make my own lunch in the morning. What is worse is the fact that I can't eat before swim practice, otherwise I feel like throwing up. In the last couple of days, I learned to stuff a cup of yogurt and apple slices down my throat while running to class after showering.

I sigh and grab my keys and stab the lock. It clicks and the door swings open. I slam the door shut, dump the bags on the ground, kick off my shoes, and leap on to the couch, letting its plush texture surround me. I had not realized how tired I was until the luxurious couch lulled me to sleep within seconds. The last thing on my mind was about how hungry I was.

* * *

Her brother is going to the French Open and she was crying? That's incredible but I really don't understand females. She must have been crying in the same way we burst into tears after our second win at nationals last year. Sanada had yelled at us to stop the tears from running down our faces, but I swear I saw his eyes glassy from tears as well.

I let the water rain down upon me as the shower cleared my head. I was exhausted but ready for the match tomorrow. It should be an easy match, given that they were the district preliminaries; Rikkaidai is ranked first after all.

Wrapping a towel around me, I pull clothes on and listen to the chatter of Jackal, Niou, and Kirihara.

"Marui? Why have you been so quiet lately?" Niou quips with a smirk. "Thinking about a certain girl?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm thinking about the cakes I need to pick up for tomorrow's matches. I hope they put enough caramel in the filling."

"Sure," Niou grins.

A quiet, "Fifty-two percent chance that he's telling the truth," cuts through the conversation.

I wanted to groan at the low number. The team turns and looks at Yanagi.

He shrugs. "Marui has been more reserved lately. I can't really read him that well right now."

"Just be ready for the game tomorrow," Sanada says, brows furrowed.

I nod and ruffle my wet hair. Popping a piece of gum into my mouth, I let my tongue soak in the apple flavor.

"So, are we meeting up for the team tradition tonight?" Yukimura asks, his voice as smooth as ever.

The team choruses with "Sure," and "I'm pretty sure we're all free," and "Hn."

"Where?" Yukimura questions.

"Jackal's place," I reply.

Jackal blinks. "What? Why my place?"

"Why? Do you not want to?" I ask, with my eyes wide open, puzzled.

"Fine," he grumps, grinding his teeth.

"Is Klysen-senpai coming?" Kirihara questions.

"She's not on the team," Yukimura reminds him.

"It's alright, you and Marui can sulk together at Jackal's," Niou says, patting Kirihara's shoulder.

My eyes narrow. "Why would I sulk?"

Kirihara tugs at my arm. "Let's go to Jackal's right now. I'm hungry."

"I'm right here you know," Jackal throws his hands up, exasperated.

Kirihara, Niou, Jackal, and I end up leaving early to go eat at Jackal's house. We file out of the locker room and march towards the gate of the school. Kirihara's stomach is growling, Niou is laughing at Kirihara's expense, and Jackal is thinking, just like usual.

"Klysen!" Niou yells and my head snaps up.

Her auburn hair is messily flying in the light breeze and she smiles, "Hi."

I wave, looking at her big blue eyes, and grab the big paper bag she was holding. "What's in this?" I grin, opening it up.

"Feminine stuff."

Her answer jolts through my head and I throw the bag at her in response, disgusted.

"I was joking," she laughs. "It's swimming stuff."

Jackal warns her to keep her belongings away from Niou and she laughs at Niou's pranks. I knew that Jackal was right because I remembered when Niou mashed up my cakes and stole my gum right before a match last year. He also scared away all my fangirls that had tried offering me their cakes as compensation. If the match hadn't been a quick one, I would have been in serious trouble.

"Klysen-senpai, are you coming to the tournament tomorrow?" Kirihara's question interrupts my thoughts.

"If you want me to, I can. The swim coach gave me the day off tomorrow to rest my shoulders," she replies.

"You should," Kirihara grins. "You'll see how awesome I am."

I roll my eyes at the arrogant second-year.

"Anyways," Jackal interrupts. "We have to go. We have a meeting at my place because Marui volunteered my house. Sorry Klysen."

She attempts to wave while holding her bags; with a smile, she continues walking towards her flat, auburn hair whipping around her shoulders.

Niou pokes my arm and waggles his eyebrows at me. I shake my head at him, knowing what he's implying.

I look up towards the sky, looking forward to the team tradition of hanging out the night before districts preliminaries.

* * *

My vibrating phone broke my deep slumber and I groaned, rubbing my eyes blearily. Stretching my sore muscles, I padded over to my backpack and fished out my phone that buzzed angrily in my hand.

"Hello?" I yawned.

"Hey, open your door."

Puzzled, I unlatch the door and let it swing open.

"Hi," Keigo grins at me and said in German. "I was in the area and thought I would stop by. You look awful."

I smile back and reply in German as well. "You interrupted my beauty sleep. Come in."

He lifts the boxes in his hand while walking over the threshold. "I brought food."

"Oh thank you," I moan and throw my phone at my bag. "I am starving and too lazy to cook right now."

I shut the door and looks around the flat. "Really? Modern furnishing?" he wrinkles his nose and sets the food down on the small dining table.

"Sorry, I'm not a Victorian era person like you," I retort back. "My brother got an invitation to the French Open."

Keigo's head snaps up. "Really? That's amazing!"

"Yeah," I beam. We tear into the Italian food that he brought and I chew leisurely, savoring the flavor. "Wow, I didn't think I'd miss pasta so much."

"You could always hire a chef like me," he replies.

I shrug. "I don't like personal chefs. Mom and Grandmother always cooked even though they never had to. They could have hired a chef at any time."

The simple fettuccine alfredo slowly fills my stomach as Keigo grins. "Remember when we had that eating contest?"

I laugh. "I slaughtered you. I ate almost twice as much as you did."

He frowns. "I was nine."

"Are you saying that you could do better now?"

He shakes his head. "No way. You could probably still crush me."

"Good to know that you understand that," I smile at the egotistical boy who only dropped his façade of arrogance for me.

"So, what's up?" he swallows and waves his fork around.

"Nothing much. I was made captain of the swim team but I'm the only swimmer at Rikkaidai, so that doesn't really mean much."

"That's still good," he protests. "It just means that no one else is in your way."

"It also means that I have no power," I roll my eyes. "Not that I really care. No one takes swimming seriously at Rikkaidai. I have a meet next weekend though; it's districts: preliminaries on Friday and finals on Saturday. You coming?"

He pauses with his fork between his teeth and gulps his food down. "Duh, I like seeing you swim. Text me the details later."

I nod at his satisfactory answer, "I hope I'm fast enough."

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "You go to meets with the pros in the US, and are the top ranked junior swimmer on the circuit. You'll be fast enough," he assures.

He checks his watch. "Oh darn, I'm running late. I have a tournament tomorrow." He brushes off his pants, pushes away his finished plate of food, and stands up.

"Can't you stay longer?" I pout.

"Sorry. I really can't," he says, apologetic, and then smirks. "Besides, you smell."

I glare at him. "I came from tennis practice as my cross-training and fell asleep. I think I know I smell, thank you very much."

He slides his feet into his shoes, opens the door, and waves, still grinning.

I copy the motion, hip leaning against the door frame and arms folded across my chest. He slips into his Buggati and lets the chauffeur drive him off.

I shake my head, still smiling and lock the door. "That royal airhead."

I sniff at my shirt and frown. Man, I really stink. I throw the now-empty disposable containers of food into the trashcan and walk into the flat's main hallway.

I turn to the bathroom and strip, letting the warm water wash away the sweat and dirt from tennis practice. The steam swirls around me for what seems like hours, as I scrub away, determined to take off some of the chlorine scent that seemed to be my permanent perfume. I eventually give up. Turning off the water, I pull on a bathrobe and pad out of the bathroom, looking for the comfort of my bed. Burrowing myself into the covers, I let sleep take over my brain again and dream of Italian food.

* * *

**All the reviews that asked me to update just got me to update faster! Thanks everyone :)**

**Please read, review, and favorite! All suggestions for the future plot are welcome!**

**Over the next few chapters, the main character is going to try to build a relationship with the tennis team, because so far, all they do is acknowledge her existence. **

**Any guesses about her medical problem?**


	7. The Mature Trickster

**Disclaimer: I do not own PoT.**

**Dear the person who left a review as a guest,**

**I really wish you had an account so I could answer your questions! If you see this and don't have an account, feel free to e-mail me with the e-mail listed on my profile!**

**bluheat**

* * *

I groan at the birds chirping noisily and refused to open my eyes. Screwing them tightly shut, I covered my ears with a pillow. Who thought it would be a good idea to let birds exist and wake people up in the morning? How is it possible that I could hear their noise through a pillow?

I crack my eyes open, letting my eyes focus on the clock next to my bed. 9:30. Why did I feel like I was forgetting something? It was probably nothing and I shift in my bed, letting my pillow cover my face.

I bolt upright in my bed. Oh crap, I said I would go watch the matches at ten. Throwing off the covers, I jump off the bed only to slip and nearly fall over. Somehow, in thirty minutes I had to get to the local park.

The minty taste of my toothpaste lingered on my tongue and the foamy texture coated the inside of my mouth as I shoved my legs into a pair of light skinny jeans and tried to find a nice enough shirt to wear while tightening a chocolate leather belt. I spit out my toothpaste in the basin and washed my mouth with water, giving up on trying to find a nice shirt and pulling on a black ribbed tank top. I cursed at how it hugged my chest and hips and tore open the package holding my new Rikkaidai swimming jacket. I felt my hand connect with a slight rubbery texture and peered inside the large paper bag. A rubber snake lay on top of the swimming paraphernalia.

I cursed at Niou's existence. He was so getting payback.

The slight smell of new clothing met my nose as I pulled on the jacket and zipped it up halfway. It fit perfectly and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride, looking at my name stitched onto the right side of the black band running around my chest, right under the label of 'Swim Captain.' I could tell it looked good, even without looking in the mirror.

I put a spoon of yogurt in my mouth and gagged at the flavor. Yuck, I hate strawberry flavored yogurt. It tasted fake, and well, not like strawberries. Regardless, I swallowed and downed the cup of the creamy dairy product and shoved a piece of fruity gum into my mouth, to take away the flavor of fake strawberry.

With a brush, I attacked the mess on my head and willed for the tangles to go away. The half-wavy hair eventually obliged and sat calmly on my back, letting me win the daily battle for once. I pressed my fingers to my ear lobes to check if my fake diamond studs were in place.

Running to the front door, I stuff my lanyard with my keys into my back jean pocket along with my flip phone and shove my feet into my favorite brown combat boots. My extra cash rolled into my right boot presses against my ankle and I throw my pepper spray into my jacket for good measure as I burst out the front door.

It seriously had to be a miracle that it only took ten minutes to get out of the flat; I wish I only knew where the park was.

"Hey!" I yelled to the young boys who were playing on the sidewalk.

They turned towards me and sprinted away, screaming, "Alien!"

My eye twitched at the cheeky little kids, knowing that my only choice was to either wander around and find the park or get their directions.

I growled and set off into a run after them.

"Ahh!" the four boys screamed, seeing me gain on them.

I scooped one up, holding him around the midriff.

"The monster got me! Save me!" he wailed.

I held him up in the air and shook him lightly. "Tell me where the local park with the tennis courts is or I will devour you," I rumbled as menacingly as I could, fighting back a smile.

"Just go right on the road we're on and take a left at the first streetlight! Please don't eat me! I'm sure you're a very nice alien!" he squeals, waving his arms.

"If you're lying I will show you how mean of an alien I can be," I bark playfully, messing up the hair of the boy.

"He's not lying!" another boy cries. "Please just give him back! We promise we'll be good!"

I lower the boy to the ground and warn them, "I'll be watching," before trotting off to the direction they pointed at. I swore I could hear them sigh in relief and I grinned at the thought of the young kids who had made my morning a little brighter.

I whistled a tune to myself as I strolled on the sidewalk, stepping over cracks and dodging joggers who took advantage of the nice weather and gentle sunrays. The wind was non-existent and heaps of puffy marshmallows in the sky framed the horizon.

I checked my phone. 9:55. Turning left at the streetlight, I saw a few cars rushing by on the dark asphalt. I look up at the arch on my left and see the label 'park.'

I saunter through the arch and instantly see a few teenagers wearing colorful jerseys and balancing tennis rackets on their shoulders. There was not a single girl in sight. I hold my head up high and I feel like I'm on a catwalk, strutting for the world to judge. My auburn hair slides on my back as my side-bangs fly off the side of my face with each step. They watch me go by, pausing their conversations to see a foreigner invade a Japanese park.

One had the nerve to come up to me. He sneered in broken English, "Hello pretty girl. Are you lost?"

"I'm lost in the idea of why a person like you thinks he can try to flirt with me," I huff back in Japanese, not bothering to stop walking. "Unless you can tell me where Rikkaidai is, don't bother talking to me."

Another is nice enough to point to a shaded area about a hundred meters away as the boy who tried to flirt with me sputters.

"Thank you," I smile.

I strut off, feeling their eyes on my back.

"Wait!" a hand grabs my wrist and whirls me around. The boy who tried to flirt with me grasps my wrist tightly as he tried to stroke his fingers against my cheek. I recoil, disgusted.

"What makes you think you can touch me?" I snarl, trying to remove his fingers from my wrist. How could he do that in broad daylight without anyone yelling at him?

He smirks. "Why? Do you not like it?"

I raise my hand and smack him across the face. In shock, he loosens his hold on my wrist and I tug it from his grasp. My hand imprinted quite nicely on his face. I whirl around and continue walking toward the Rikkaidai team, who seem to be watching the commotion. I slip the pepper spray from my jacket as I could hear the rustle of angered footsteps behind me.

I straighten up right before I feel someone seize my waist. "You've done it now," he pants. Really, how did no one stop him before he harassed a girl in public?

Without hesitation, I unload the pepper spray behind me. I hear an awful shriek and feel my free waist. I shove my pepper spray back into my boot and walk towards the Rikkaidai tennis players. Kirihara's mouth is wide open and my silent gratitude to my grandmother runs through my head.

"Hello," I smile, bemused. "Glad to see you all come to my rescue instead of watching me be harassed," I teased sarcastically.

"He's on the ground crying," Niou comments. "I think he needs saving from you."

I shrug and tuck my hands in my back jean pockets.

"Are you alright Klysen-san?" Yagyuu asks, his glasses glinting.

"Yes," I smile gently. "Thank you for your concern."

"Is that a Rikkaidai jersey?" Kirihara tugs at my sleeve, looking at me with his emerald eyes and I couldn't help but grin back.

"Yeah, it's the swimming jacket. Look!" I point to my chest. "It says I'm captain on the front along with my name, and has the school's name on the back."

"You're the only swimmer," Yukimura remarks, immersed in his façade. I felt as if he was looking down upon me and was annoyed with my presence. "Who are you the captain of?"

I shrug again, "Me."

"Ne, vice-captain," Kirihara calls out to Sanada, "why can't we have nice jerseys like that? We look like bees in our new yellow jerseys."

Sanada glares at me, as if I'm the cause of all of his troubles, which, in a way, I guess I am. He looks away after a couple of seconds and I smirk.

"Why does the vice-captain have a rod shoved up his ass?" I whisper.

The regulars try to muffle their snickers. Marui and Kirihara fail miserably.

Sanada snaps his head up and stare angrily at Niou. I pretend to be aghast at what 'Niou' said; I love acting like the innocent one.

"Wait, I swear that wasn't me," Niou backs away, hands up in protest.

"Fifty laps at the next practice," Sanada snarls back.

"But it…" Niou begins to object.

"Sixty," Sanada scowls.

Niou shuts his mouth.

"Calm down Sanada," Yukimura says smoothly, in that almost angelic tone.

I grin and blow a gum bubble. "Not that I don't love sitting and chatting with you all, but when does your match start?"

"At eleven," Marui answers, leaning against a pole with his hands tucked behind his head. "We're seeded first so we get a bye in the first round."

I could have slept another hour and still made it on time? Ugh, well that is frustrating. Not like the birds outside my window would have let me though. I run my fingers through my hair, irritated.

The regulars collapse into easy conversation and Niou whispers, "It was you, wasn't it?"

I tilt my head to the side and blink innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But I trust that you won't try to pull anything on me in the future."

"This is for the snake, isn't it?"

I give him a sadistic smile. "I'm glad that you understand me."

"The fangirls are here," Jackal announces.

The squealing bunch dressed in yellow and pink were jumping up and down in short skirts and revealing tops. I cringed at the sight, knowing that if I ever dressed like that, both Keigo and my brother would snap at me to change instantly. They crowd around the regulars, offering Marui sweets and their love to Yukimura.

"Why is _she_ here?" one screeches, pointing at me.

"Well nice to see you too," I reply sarcastically. "I missed you so much. Do tell me where you get your skirts from so I never go there."

She huffs and doesn't bother to reply.

Jade 1, fan girl 0.

* * *

I blow a gum bubble as the breeze disturbs my hair. I couldn't help but feel a bit concerned when that guy harassed her. I also couldn't help but feel a bit impressed that he was now on the ground crying. If we go against that school, Rikkaidai will crush them. I could tell that the majority of the team cared about what happened to her, even though we didn't act like it.

The auburn locks wave in the gentle wind and her piercing blue eyes light up as she talks with Kirihara. Her Rikkaidai jacket fits her perfectly, almost as if it was an extension of her. Yukimura looks slightly irritated with her presence, even if it was hard to tell.

"Why does the vice-captain have a rod shoved up his ass?" she sighed.

I clap a hand over my mouth as I try to stop laughing. Muffled noises come out as Sanada looks murderous.

"Fifty laps," he snarls at Niou.

Smart. She knew that Niou would be the one to be blamed.

As Niou protests, she turns her head slightly, with a smirk gracing her features.

"Not that I don't love sitting and chatting with you all, but when does your match start?" she says, blowing a gum bubble.

She's chewing the wrong kind of gum. Everyone knows apple is the best.

"At eleven," I reply, leaning against a pole with my hands behind my head. "We're seeded first so we get a bye in the first round."

She sighs resignedly.

Yanagi mutters to himself as the others converse with each other.

Squeals cut through the air as a bunch of girls in awkward cheerleading outfits bounce over, babbling about giving me cakes. They're honestly like cockroaches. They swarm and they're impossible to get rid of.

I glance over at Klysen and see her sticking out her tongue at a cheerleader. I smile at her childish antics, which is funny coming from me.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the short and late chapter! I just started school and I've been really unmotivated. Reviews motivate me the most!**

**I'll reveal her health issues next chapter, because of the short chapter. **

**Please please please review, because that just makes me write faster and better!**


	8. The Predicament of Being in a New World

**To everyone who thinks this is a MaruixOC fic,**

**Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Stay tuned and you will see a bit of Shishido and Rikkaidai later on as well!**

**bluheat**

**I am begging you to write reviews, as they're the only thing that keeps me motivated to keep updating. **

* * *

I tuck my side-bangs behind my ear while watching the self-proclaimed genius and the Brazilian step on to the court after Marui gobbled down a cake and Jackal shaved his head. I wasn't going to question their habits, because damn, I have them too.

The two looked confident, with the redhead blowing gum bubbles while stretching and Jackal stands there, stoic as ever. Because I was not an official member of the team, I was to stay outside the fence surrounding the court while the team members sat on a bench inside it.

"Marui-Jackal versus Yamana-Maeda pair," the referee calls. "Jackal, to serve."

Jackal tosses the neon-green ball up with his fingers and extends his arm up, hitting the ball with the racket strings.

The ball blows past the opponents and they look at each other in horror, surprised at the speed of the serve. Jackal serves again, clearly bored. Marui absentmindedly itches at his weighted wristbands. The opponents fail to return the serve again.

I fold my arms across my chest and cock my hip. I watch Jackal's remaining serves, wondering if the opponents would attempt to put up a fight. Would they? Or was Rikkaidai just that strong?

The Rikkaidai cheerleaders screech and jump up and down at the love game. The Rikkaidai tennis club-the non-regulars-cheer in support. Me? I simply yawn. I am not sure that the cheerleaders even understood tennis.

"Marui-Jackal, One-love!" the referee announces.

The opponents appeared to be defeated already with their slumped shoulders and crushed expressions. They looked disturbingly human, whereas the Rikkaidai pair across the net seemed untouchable, almost like royalty. So that was what the whispers of "King Rikkaidai" meant.

Yamana serves with a grunt and the ball flies over the net. Marui slices it back and the ball passes by the opponents again. They pant, staring at the bored Rikkaidai players.

I huff, knowing that the match would end 6-0 and without a single ball past the Rikkaidai duo. A breeze liberates my side-bangs from my ear and strands blow across my face. Glancing up, the once sunny sky seems disturbed by stacks of cloud looming nearby.

I fix my eyes on the game again but my mind wanders to when my brother and I played mixed doubles in our first tournament together. I could remember that day as if it was yesterday. The bright sun beat down on us and the light breeze cooled us occasionally. We were entered in the fourteen and under section and I was eight years old. Our first opponents laughed when they saw me, thinking there was no way I could play against teenagers. My brother and I beat them by four games, after we had dropped the initial two because of my lack of confidence.

Afterwards, he told me to always take opponents seriously, even if they did not seem powerful. He smiled and wiped away the dirt on my cheeks from when I fell over and hugged me, saying that he was proud of me being able to regain my confidence.

He was known as The Phoenix, rising above everything his opponents threw at him. His passion for tennis and strong serves gave him the nickname, along with the ability to be 'reborn' on the courts; he could change his playing style at will. He almost looked like a flame while playing, unpredictable and dangerous. He didn't seem dangerous that day though, saying that he didn't want me to get hurt by accident.

That day, we didn't just win our first tournament together. I learned a valuable lesson of how the most satisfying thing in the world is winning against people who said you never could. My brother said that day was the most fun he ever had playing tennis.

"Match point!" the referee interrupts my reverie.

Maybe I should try thinking of the past during English class. Maybe then that class would pass by faster. I doubt it though.

Yamana serves and the rally begins with the opponents who had sweat dripping down their faces. Marui suddenly smiles. His sudden and first facial expression during the game interrupts the superior attitude of the Rikkaidai pair and he hits a drop volley. The ball lands on the net and rolls on top of it, before dropping on to the opponent's side.

I gasp and clutch at the fence while Marui blows a gum bubble. "Aren't I a genius?"

"Game Rikkaidai Marui-Jackal pair! Six games to love!" the referee declares.

The cheerleaders scream and the non-regulars yell. I stay silent, Marui's volley replaying in my head. It rolled on _top_ of the net. That ball control…

The opponents don't even seem surprised as they tiredly walk away from the court.

Yukimura nods towards the two, "Good job. You finished the game within fifteen minutes."

Niou and Yagyuu strip off their warm-up pants and grab their rackets, replacing Marui and Jackal on the court. Marui's eyes meet mine and he grins cheekily before plopping down on the team bench.

I ignore the glares I was getting from the fangirls because of Marui smiling at me. My fingers comb through my bangs, trying to secure them behind my ear again while wondering what tricks Niou and Yagyuu had up their sleeves.

Niou the Trickster and Yagyuu the Gentleman.

* * *

I blow a gum bubble, ignoring the sudden urge to turn around from the bench I was sitting on. The easy game was gratifying yet agitating at the same time. I felt like playing seriously today, and the grey-clad opponents did not giving me that satisfaction.

Yagyuu and Niou pull off their warm-up pants and Yagyuu bends over and whispers in my ear in a voice quite unlike his, "She was watching your game quite closely, wasn't she?"

My head snaps up, looking at the smirk spreading across the "Gentleman's" face.

"Niou," I breathed. "When did you and Yagyuu switch?"

He shrugs. "Right before your match started, we snuck off and did the switch."

"Impressive," I shake my head. I could never tell unless if they gave it away on purpose, as Niou just did.

He pushes the fake copy of Yagyuu's actual glasses up his nose and the real Yagyuu smirks, mirroring Niou's trademark expression. "Puri," he grins, and the two pick up their rackets and walk on to the court.

"Those two…" Jackal trails off.

"Are quite the troublesome pair," Yukimura finishes, with his usual serene smile plastered on to his face.

Sanada sits stoically, with his arms folded across his chest. I see a flicker of approval pass across his face. As impassive as he was, even he respected the pair.

Kirihara sighs, "We all know that the senpais will finish the game within fifteen minutes in straight points. They won't even have to switch back. What was the point?"

I open my mouth but the vice-captain beats me to it. "Practice," he answers curtly.

"Ninety-nine percent chance that they will not use any of their techniques," Yanagi adds.

"Niou-Yagyuu pair versus Saitou-Itou pair, Niou to serve!" the referee calls.

"Niou" tosses the ball up and slams the racket into it. Similar to my game, the opponents are unsuccessful in hitting back.

"Fifteen-love!"

I glance over my right shoulder to see if Klysen could see the switch between Niou and Yagyuu. Instead, my eyes land upon a bunch of cheering fangirls in odd outfits and they scream, noticing that I looked back towards them. I freeze and put on a fake smile for them while my eyes sweep the perimeter of the courts.

Where did she go?

* * *

I hum to myself and tuck my hands into my jacket pockets while strolling around the large park. Strands of my hair whipped across my face as the light wind made leaves on the trees dance. I needed a break from the screeches from the girls in short skirts and from the yells of the non-regulars. More importantly, I needed a break to wipe away my shock from Marui's shot.

Were all of the regulars from Rikkaidai that tough? Was Jackal hiding his true strength when he played me too? What would the Trickster and the Gentleman do? As much as I wanted to watch their match, I needed to calm down.

I pause in front of a vending machine. A drink could do me some good. I slip a few coins into the slot and cock my head. I didn't know any of these drinks. I pushed the button to a can that looked a bit like grape juice. The white designed can read "Ponta" and it clicked as it rolled down the dispense chute.

I grab it and pop the tab, savoring the fruity grape taste that slid over my tongue. I take a couple of deep breaths, only to open my eyes to a few angry fangirls in short skirts.

"Why are you here, you slut?"

"Don't you get enough of their attention during practice?"

I sigh and shake my head, "Girls, girls. I'm not interested in them. I promise."

"Liar!" one screeches back.

"If you must know," I reply with a docile smile, "the regulars asked me to be here."

Or at least Kirihara and Marui did. I'm not so sure about anyone else other than those two and Niou being comfortable with me watching the district preliminaries.

"You foreigner," another snarls and steps forward, "you're trying to trick all of them."

My eyebrows furrow and mouth turns sour at the mention of being a foreigner. What did being a foreigner have to do with anything? I sip at the Ponta, clutching the can, trying to wash away the sudden acrid taste.

"Oh really?" I spit back.

"Yes," a different girl hisses. "It's already bad that you prance around with no clothes and pretend to swim."

Swimming is a beautiful sport. How dare they? I don't prance around, I become part of the fluid motion of a wave, cutting through the water. And who cares if I'm a foreigner?

I gulp at the drink again, wiping my face of all reaction. "I see," I smile back at the girls. "If you have any other complaints, be sure to give them to me at swim practice before school starts or during club time at the tennis courts."

"Who do you think you are?" a cheerleader jeers. "With those ugly clothes, awful foreigner looks, and-"

I promptly turn the can upside-down over her head, letting the dark purple liquid spread through her hair. It's too bad I had to waste a drink on someone who didn't deserve it.

"Oops," I tilt my head. "My hand slipped."

"You! Y…You bitch!" the cheerleaders scream.

I wave my free hand that is not clutching the almost empty can while strolling back towards the match, "That's me! Submit any more complaints at the times and places listed before!"

I could hear the girls sputter and scream behind my back. My fingers start to make dents into the can, being the only physical symbols of my displeasure at the exchange. I sip the remnants of the drink and hum a tune that I used to play on my saxophone, trying to bring myself under control.

I'm not good with anger. Anger is such a human, raw emotion. Almost like feeling hopeless, or sad, or the combination of the three like I felt two months ago. I push away the emotions, not letting them linger in my head. They still existed, as powerful as they were then. They have just been pushed aside and tucked away, almost as if emotions were files in a file box.

I swipe at my bangs, trying to get them out of my face as I breathe in deeply. In and out. In and out. Just like a machine. My angered disposition won't leave and I feel my eyes slightly narrow. Until I calm down, my steely, enraged eyes wouldn't leave and everything I would say would come out caustic from my fake smile.

I lean against the fence to the tennis court, desperately trying to take in the game to wipe away my bothered state. Yagyuu powerfully hits the ball over the net.

"Five games to love!" the referee yells. "Switch courts!"

The Rikkaidai pair saunters over to the other side. Their foreheads remain clear of sweat and Yagyuu pushes his glasses up his nose.

The opponent serves, letting the ball fly. The Rikkaidai duo look at ease as they let a gentle rally take place, and then effortlessly capture another point with a well-aimed lob. The opponents pant and the one with blonde hair serves again. Yagyuu gets into an odd stance and pulls his racket back, almost as if he was going to whack at it.

To my surprise, he does whack at it, but hits it straight in the sweet spot. The ball whizzes by in the air, so fast that my eyes can barely see the blur of the neon-green ball. The sphere hits the baseline and bounces away while the opponents' jaws drop.

"Rikkaidai Thirty-love!"

Niou puts two fingers towards his face, and then lowers them suddenly. Oddly enough, that seemed like what Yagyuu would do. I look at Yagyuu and he has a smile similar to Niou's. Did those two switch spots?

"Yagyuu, don't you think it's time to take off the disguises?" Yagyuu smirks.

"Why yes, Niou-kun," Niou answers in Yagyuu's voice.

I smile at their antics and can't help but snicker at the incredulity of it all.

The real Yagyuu pulls off the silvery-haired wig, pulls on a pair of glasses, and the real Niou seems to turn back to himself out of thin air and pulls off the fake spectacles. The two switch the hands in which they hold their rackets. The crowd gasps and I shake my head at the Trickster's deception. Hm, so that is why he's called the Conman of the Courts.

Yagyuu was playing without contacts or glasses? That requires skill if his glasses aren't fake.

I could feel my negative energy drift away at the sight of the duo's tennis as the opponents gnash their teeth and serve again, utterly frustrated.

The two return the ball faster than before, with their rackets in their dominant hands.

"Match point!"

The real Yagyuu sends a golf swing the opponents' way to seal the game. The ball was faster than before and more accurate, hitting the baseline and leaving a dark mark behind.

"That's the real Laser Beam," he announces.

"Game and match to Rikkaidai, six games to love!"

The deafening cheers from the fangirls and the non-regulars nearly burst my eardrums.

* * *

I glance behind me again and see Klysen, crushing a can of Ponta in her hand with a gleam in her eyes, surrounded by the cheering fangirls. How is she not deaf? Her acute blue eyes stare at the court and an uneasy smile is on her face.

"Klysen-senpai!" Kirihara waves. "I'm up next!"

Her face breaks into a normal smile, but look in her eyes doesn't disappear. "Good luck!" she yells back, clutching the fence with her empty hand.

What happened to her?

I turn back toward the courts, but not before Niou sends a grin my way, showing that he noticed what I was looking at. I roll my eyes, hoping he would drop his theories. The Data Master could probably back me up, saying that Niou's theory was wrong.

Kirihara strides towards the court with his hand firmly wrapped around his racket. His emerald eyes are focused on the court and a zephyr lightly tousles his curly hair as he checks that his weighted wristbands are in place.

"Singles three: Kirihara versus Mori!"

Kirihara spins his racket and picks to serve, aiming on finishing the game quickly instead of taunting the opponent. He only really taunts the opponent when he finds them worthy enough to play against. It's his way of showing respect. He's also probably hungry.

My stomach growls in agreement. I press my hands over the source of the offending sound and Yanagi chuckles.

Kirihara tosses the ball up in the air and slams into it, letting it float past the opponent. The opponent whirls around, trying to see where the ball was. Kirihara probably didn't even need to play at full strength to finish the game within ten minutes.

The opponent throws his racket to the ground, "I forfeit!" he yells.

"Well that's different," I mumble to myself.

"I did not expect that," Yanagi adds.

Kirihara blinks, confused, "What? Why?"

The opponent stomps off the court and his teammates remain silent, looking sullen.

"Um, due to Fujisawa Middle School's forfeiture, the match goes to Kirihara of Rikkaidai! With winning three matches in a row, Rikkaidai advances to the finals of the district preliminary! The finals will resume after a two hour break," the referee announces with his brows furrowed.

Yukimura frowns, unsatisfied. The cheerleaders drown our confusion with their screeches and, "We love you Kirihara-sama!"

The team rises from the benches to shake our opponents' hands, only for them to frown at us and bow, refusing to acknowledge us further. Not only did that feel incredibly rude, but also dismissive. I hear the groan of the fence gate and the soft footsteps of a girl that was slowly becoming familiar.

"Kirihara, it looks like your face scared them away," Klysen teases.

The junior ace pouts at the girl teenager whose hands are tucked away in that jacket seems like an extension of her. A sudden gust of wind blows strands of her hair across her face and and she swipes at the auburn locks, trying to get them under control. Her piercing blue eyes emerge looking straight at me. I freeze, almost in a trance, and the sight of her holding back her golden-red hair and looking at me with those icy sky-blue eyes seems to instantly become engraved in my brain.

* * *

Maybe I should just shave my head; hair is too much trouble anyways. I secure my hair out of my face with my fingers combed through my tresses and glance up to see Marui looking at me. His intense gaze makes me feel transparent, as if he could read my every thought.

I force myself to tear my eyes away to congratulate Niou, Yagyuu, and the cheeky little junior of their victories, albeit the victories were easily won. Marui's ball which balanced on the net and Niou and Yagyuu's switch stunned me, but not as much as Kirihara's opponent forfeiting. What kind of opponent gives up before the game actually begins? The lack of honor for his own school seemed shameful.

"Congratulations," I smile at Niou and Yagyuu. "Your switch was quite unexpected, although Yagyuu gave it away when he put two fingers up as if he was about to push up his glasses."

"It is a hard habit to get rid of," Yagyuu nods in acknowledgement. "But thank you."

"Thanks," Niou quips, "Marui and Jackal did well too. Especially Marui."

I look at him and he smirks at me with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"What are you planning?" I narrow my eyes at him but the edges of my lips turn up, slightly exasperated and amused at the same time.

"Nothing," he grins and walks off, whistling.

I shake my head at his receding backside.

I spot Kirihara sitting down on the bench with his head in his hands and I sit down delicately next to him, facing the opposite direction.

"Kirihara?" I speak softly.

"Oh hello Klysen-senpai," he pulls his head up and turns towards me.

"What's wrong?" I murmur.

"Oh nothing," he says, hiding his face. "I just wanted to play, that's all."

I look at him, and for the first time, I notice his guarded expression.

"You're hiding something, Kirihara," I whisper. "What's really wrong?"

He sighs, "I guess I just feel like that guy was too scared to play against me. I don't like that feeling."

I smile, thinking about how my brother used to feel the same way. His dangerous tactics nearly ended his tennis.

"Kirihara, I'll tell you something that I haven't told many people. My brother used to feel the same way. He was too good and utterly defeated almost everyone he played, almost to the point of injury. He was a dangerous player, even if he couldn't help it."

Kirihara emerald eyes shine back at me.

"He almost didn't want to play tennis anymore, because he was tired of hurting others. Ultimately, it took several months for him to retrain the way he played so he did not return to the way he was. It was a harsh and steep road, but it kept him playing."

I clap my hand on to his shoulder and stand up, still looking into those emerald eyes.

"Talk to me if you want help, Kirihara. I'll see if I can make a difference."

"Klysen-senpai?"

"Call me Jade," I answer encouragingly.

"Akaya," he breathes out, letting a small smile of gratitude spread across his face. "Call me Akaya, Jade-senpai."

"No honorifics. Just Jade."

I drop my hand from his shoulder and stroll away from the second-year ace sitting on the bench.

* * *

I tear the weighted bands off my hands and ankles, letting the skin underneath breathe.

"Nice win," the voice of a certain foreigner drifts towards my ears.

I look up from my bag and straighten my body. The very-confusing-person-that-I-wasn't-so-sure-that-I-wanted-to-see stood before me, head cocked to the right and beaming back at me.

"Thanks," I answer gruffly, not sure how to respond, the picture of her hair held back with her fingers and her piercing blue eyes trapped in my head. "Are you staying for the finals?"

"I think I will. And you have got to show me that trick of where you can get the ball to roll on top of the net," she grins.

I grin back, finally feeling that she was back on familiar territory, "I told you I was a genius."

She rolls her eyes at me and groans, "Not this again."

"Ne, Marui-senpai," Kirihara pokes at my arm. "Can we go get ramen?"

I tousle his hair and he pouts, like usual, "Sure, go ask the captain if we can all go together."

"Yukimura-buchou! Can we go eat ramen together?" he yells out, knowing that he would hear.

Yukimura smiles back at the younger tennis player. Though he may not act like it, the team knew that he was fond of Kirihara and often saw him as a cheeky little brother.

"Of course," he answers.

I look at Klysen and her eyebrows are furrowed and she was biting her lip, deep in thought. She watched Yukimura, as if something about the captain deeply disturbed her. Yukimura looked at her straight in the eye and lifted a single eyebrow, almost like a challenge.

"Jade!" Kirihara interrupts. "Come with us!"

Jade? Since when did he call her by her first name? Why is he calling her by her first name?

She simply turns, tearing her eyes from Yukimura, and smiles at him, "If you want me to."

Was she just trying to be coy with Kirihara and Yukimura, or was there something else going on?

* * *

The team walks and I tag behind, strolling casually behind Sanada's stiff gait and beside Marui amble, him complaining about the hole in his stomach. My tummy seemed to agree, but I didn't voice it's opinion out loud, as my usual behavior from the US didn't seem acceptable here. I flipped my phone open, smiling at the picture of me posed next to Keigo, him pouting in a dress and me laughing at him in a tuxedo.

Marui looked over my shoulder at my phone and snorted at the picture of Keigo in a dress. I grinned back at him and looked at his amethyst eyes. His eyes still made me uncomfortable, but I couldn't figure out why. He turned away first, seeming to have the same issue as me.

It had been a full week in Japan, and yet I felt as if it had been an eternity and a fleeting moment at the same time. I missed Portland more than ever, I missed my friends and the swim team in the US, and most of all I missed my brother and my grandmother. I slid my phone back into my back jean pocket and I tuck my hands into the jacket, ignoring the strands of hair whipping across my face.

I hate to admit it, but I feel lonely. There was no one at home at my flat and in school I felt like I was only accepted by the tennis team because I practiced with them. In honesty, they would probably rather stay away from me but Akaya and Marui and Niou liked being around me. I couldn't impose on Keigo all the time and Azuri was nice, but I felt bad being around her all the time because she had her other friends.

My friends from Portland still tried to talk to me over e-mail and Facebook, but it wasn't the same. There were no more late night group phonecalls, no more runs to Chik-fil-a after practice, and no more complaining about how we all smelled like chlorine. We used to all be awful dancers, and so we were obviously only comfortable making a fool of ourselves in front of each other, and so we had dance challenges in where we tried learning a certain dance routine off of Youtube and videoed ourselves at the end of the week trying to do it and judged each other. We were dreadful but that just made it more fun. I was consistently one of the worst. I missed dance challenges already, even though I could probably still do them. We didn't do one this week though.

I even missed my old room that was plastered from wall to wall in swim posters and medals and ribbons. I just hope that I could do equally as well at my next swim meet next week. Coach Suzuki had refused to let me swim anything fast; instead he insisted that I work on my drills and technique. As good of an approach that was, it was frustrating because I didn't get to see if what he was doing was working. My dives felt all wrong, my turns felt ridiculously slow, and half the time I felt like I was going nowhere while swimming. How was I supposed to swim fast at districts if I couldn't even feel fast in the water?

Jackal slid the door open to the noodle shop. I looked up and saw the label of Jackal's family restaurant. Akaya and Marui were babbling away about how hungry they were and Yukimura smiled placidly while Sanada and Yanagi were as stoic as ever. Those two genuinely puzzled me. Yagyuu was silent before pulling out a chair for me.

"Thank you," I murmured to the calculating, crafty, and in many ways, surprising human.

He nodded like usual as I sat on the edge of my seat. Niou pulled out his chair, and at the last second I pushed it away from his body as he was sitting down. He stumbled backwards and crumbled to a heap on the ground. I covered my mouth so to not give away the smile that was spreading across my face.

"Be careful Niou," Sanada threatened.

Marui, Akaya, and Jackal laughed, knowing that it was my fault and I could swear that I saw a ghost of a smile flit across Yagyuu's face. Niou simply growled, also knowing that it was my fault.

"I'll get you back for that," he grumbles under his breath as he steadily lowers himself into his chair.

"I'll be waiting," I taunt back.

I order ramen with green onions and egg, trying to calm my rumbling stomach. It growls and Niou chuckles at the sound.

"Do you have a driver's license?" he questions, sipping at his water.

"No," I said leaning back in my chair, "but I can still drive."

"Well, you're driving me crazy," he wiggles his eyebrows at me and it takes everything that I have to not yell at him for his lame pick-up lines in the middle of a Jackal's family restaurant.

"I must behave, I must behave, I must behave," I whisper in English to myself, clutching my fists and my eyes screwed shut.

"You know what my shirt is made out of? Boyfriend material."

I bite my hand to keep the giggles from escaping my mouth.

"My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in."

A muffled sound comes out of my mouth and I cover my lips, trying to stop laughing, even though his pick-up lines were pretty lame.

"Don't be crude, Niou," Sanada snaps at him.

"Anyways," Yukimura cuts in smoothly. "We're trying a new line up for the afternoon matches. We want to try new pairings."

Yukimura seemed to be talking slower than usual.

"Yanagi and Jackal in Doubles 2, Yagyuu and me in Doubles 1, Akaya in Singles 3. Niou in Singles 2 if anything goes wrong," Sanada declares.

I couldn't help but feel if the pairings were so messed, that they wouldn't work. Just because they were strong individually didn't mean that they could work as a pair. Or, because they were so strong, they could probably beat their opponents with just one person in doubles.

"Why the new pairings?" Akaya asks, brows furrowed.

Yukimura shrugs, "I just wanted to see how well everyone could adapt."

"Who's playing in Singles 1?" I question.

Yukimura snorts, "We're not even getting to Singles 1, even if the pairings are awful."

I nod.

"So I'm not playing," Marui swirls his straw around in his water.

"Nope," Yanagi replies.

He sighs and sips at the liquid in the cup.

"Well in that case," Niou drops his sports bag on to the table which lacked food. "Can Marui and Klysen put their hands into the bag?"

"I'm not an idiot, Niou. You're probably going to pull something on me," I frown at him.

"Just do it," Sanada rubs at his temples, fully fed up with us.

"Fine," I snarl back, "but if he does anything, you're making him run laps."

The others look at me in wonder, trying to figure out if I really just commanded 'The Emporer.' I unzip the bag partially and jam my left hand in. Marui, sitting across from me, slides his right hand in.

"Now…." Niou trails off, puts both of his hands into the bag, and shuffles around. Suddenly, something is enclosed around my wrist and snapped closed. I lift my hand out and my wrist is encircled by a metal handcuff.

"No, you've got to be kidding me," Marui groans, lifting his hand out of the bag and seeing that he was connected to me. Niou lifts his bag off the table, smirking.

"Unlock us!" Marui and I hiss at the same time.

"The key is at home," Niou shrugs.

At the same moment, the ramen is delivered to our table as the rest of the regulars are laughing at our predicament, including Yukimura. Even Sanada looks like less of a statue than normal.

I break the chopsticks with one hand and say the common Japanese greeting, seething.

"Stop moving," Marui growls at me. "I won't be able to eat."

"Don't get mad at me," I snap back. "Blame Niou."

"You challenged him," he jeers back, frustrated.

"Stop acting like husband and wife," Niou remarks, slurping a noodle into his mouth.

"Shut up," Marui and I scowl at him.

I shove noodles into my mouth, knowing that if my grandmother could see me, she would call me fat and tell me I was not acting in the proper manner that all young women should. It didn't matter, everyone was concentrating on their own food. I laughed at Marui's attempt to eat with his non-dominant hand. Just because these people could play with their opposite hand didn't mean that they could eat with them.

"Stop laughing," Marui barks, dropping his chopsticks into his bowl. I don't even try to muffle my laughter.

"Oh no, the poor kid can't eat and will starve," I pretend-pout.

"Feed me," he snarls to Akaya, his hunger not helping his mood.

Akaya shakes his head, "I'll end up poking you in the eye."

"Niou! Feed me," he yowls.

"I can't hear you," Niou swallows at his noodles.

Everyone gives him excuses. Even Jackal says no, and I'm pretty sure that was the first time the Brazilian ever said that. The red-head doesn't even bother to ask Sanada, Yanagi, Yukimura, and Yagyuu, knowing that he would either get a glare from the first one and the rest would pretend that they didn't hear what he said.

He turns towards me. I frantically shake my head, chewing a piece of green onion.

"This is your fault."

"That doesn't mean I'm feeding you," I retort.

"Well then I'll starve and die, and then we can't go to the concert next week," he proclaims dramatically, slamming his empty left fist against the table.

Niou clears his throat, "What's this about your date next week?"

The rest of the regulars lean in, intrigued.

"It's not a date!" I whisper-yell.

"Both of our favorite bands are playing and she had extra tickets," Marui moans, realizing his mistake.

"If I feed you, will you be quiet?" I said, throwing up an arm in the air, frustrated.

I grab an extra pair of chopsticks and shove noodles down his throat before he could even say "yes." Instead, he makes a stifled sound while I make sure he had enough food in his mouth so he wouldn't talk.

"So about this date…." Niou trails off and I interrupt.

"NOT a date."

"Details, details," he says, waving his hand dismissively.

"Don't shove food in my mouth," Marui complains, done with the mouthful of noodles that I thrusted into his mouth.

"I'm sorry," I snarl. "I'm trying to fix a problem you started, so just chew while I fix." However, I'm gentler with the chopsticks, letting them neatly deliver food to his mouth.

He attempts to mumble a thank you with food in his mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," I remind him automatically as a result of the strict table manners I was brought up with. "And Niou, stop trying to take my food. I'm already mad at you and I will not hesitate to hurt you if you take my ramen."

"Yeah, the girl I had over last night said that she couldn't talk with her mouth full either. It was probably better that way," Niou grinned cheekily.

My face blanched at his insinuation, "Don't tell me you..."

"Don't speak that way at the table," Yagyuu cuts in. "And no he didn't, Klysen-san."

Niou smirks, "So tell me more about this date. Who asked who? When is it happening? Yanagi, you owe me five-hundred yen. I told you the two would get together within the first month of school."

I whimper, wanting to smash my head against the table.

* * *

**I hope everyone enjoyed the longer chapter! There was a lot of build up for the next chapter.**

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**Thank you to everyone that has reviewed so far!**


	9. Mystique

**Disclaimer: I don't own PoT!**

**I'm really sorry for updating so late! It was a hard chapter to write and I really gave it my all. If there's any mistakes, don't hesitate to point them out as I will edit them and and post fixes!**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favorited! You're the only reason this fiction is still alive!**

* * *

"Yes Sanada, a girl who is not a dire fan is talking to you. You don't need to act like I either, A, don't exist, or B, am icky," I drawl, rolling my eyes and tugging Marui along with our hands that were encased in handcuffs.

Sanada grunts and looks away, not sure how to respond. I shake my head at his attitude.

We stroll back into the park, with Yukimura at the rear. Something was seriously wrong with the tennis team captain today. He seemed out of breath and didn't even smile as much as he did normally.

I ignore the fangirls who ran up to the group, only to see me handcuffed to Marui. I didn't even have to pretend to not be slightly disgusted at the amount who burst into tears.

"Girls, I'm still single. Niou just played a trick on us," Marui tries to placate them.

The wailing did not stop.

"Ah, Rikkaidai," a new voice floated over the crowd.

"Inoue-san," Sanada nodded to a reporter.

"How is the favorite for nationals playing today?"

"We seem to be in good condition," Yukimura replies slowly.

"We are trying new combinations in the final," Yanagi adds.

He gazes over the group and his eyes lay on me, "Hm, and who is this?"

"My name is Furuya Yumi," I lie, avoiding the direct view of the reporter. I had enough experience with reporters in the US and knew to avoid them. My brother had awful incidents with them.

"Nice to meet you, Yumi-san," he nods as the rest of the regulars look at me, puzzled. "I swear I have seen you before."

My cold, fake smile freezes on my face, hoping that he wouldn't recognize me from neither the swimming world nor the tennis world.

"She's lying," Sanada states. "Do not lie to your elders, Klysen."

I narrow my eyes, evading the reporter.

"Klysen? As in Klysen Shin Jasper? The one going to the French Open?"

Oh no.

"Could you be his sister?"

"Yes," I wince.

"It's been a while since you have been in the tennis community. You used to be legendary together in the US until you stopped playing," he says, writing down his discovery.

I shrug, "Tennis was his thing, not mine."

"Rumor is that you completely retrained your brother. And what did you think about your brother walking out on his most recent tournament?"

My mask takes over, "I am so sorry, Inoue-san," I say with a bow, fury simmering on the surface as I pushed away the memories. "I am afraid that I must go."

He nods cheerily, "Well, it's nice to meet you!"

I stomp off to take a breather, nearly forgetting Marui is attached on my wrist.

"Oh for god's sake, how am I even supposed to go to the bathroom with us attached?" I moan.

* * *

Stupid Niou. Stupid, brainless, idiotic Niou. What made him think this is a good idea? Handcuffing me to a girl?

And we ARE NOT going on a date next week.

I look at Klysen, talking to the reporter. Her poorly concealed wrath was written in her eyes as they flashed menacingly. She stomps off with me attached at the wrist.

"Oh for god's sake, how am I even supposed to go to the bathroom with us attached?" she gripes.

I feel blood rush to my cheeks and I know my face is slightly pink.

"Well, um, I could just stand outside of the stall. If we maneuver…."

She shoots me a glare that tells me to shut up or die. I snap my mouth closed, not wanting to anger the lion I was attached to.

"Um, Klysen-chan?"

"What?" she snaps.

"Are you alright?"

She sends me a dazzling smile that masks her anger, "Why wouldn't I be?"

I shrug. I wasn't going to force her to tell me. She had the uncanny ability to be bipolar. An hour ago, she was feeding me with chopsticks and now she was dragging me around by my wrist. To be fair, I should not have said anything about the concert, but I couldn't help but be a bit excited.

I look up at the rumbling clouds overhead. Lightning flashed across the sky as a few drops fell on to my skin.

"We should probably get under shelter. It might start raining hard," I said out loud.

"It won't," she reassured. "Besides, even if it does, have you ever danced in the rain?"

"You're nuts."

She flashes me a grin, "Never said I wasn't."

I snort, "You should come with a warning label. 'A bit crazy.'"

She playfully shoves me with her unchained hand. I fake stumble and drag her a few feet with a smirk.

Blowing a gum bubble, I gently tug at the handcuffs, "Come on, we should probably get back to the team. Unless if you want Niou to make fun of us."

* * *

I don't get how he does that. I swear I was mad five minutes ago. I laugh at another joke that comes out from the redhead's mouth as we stroll back to the tennis courts that I had dragged us away from.

"Nice to see you guys come back," Yukimura sends chills up our spines.

Marui shrugs with a grin in response for both of us. We follow the team into the court and Marui and I sit on the team bench. I guess now that I was chained to a team member, I was allowed on the tennis court.

I glance across the net at the opponents and freeze. The uniforms were the same ones as that of the guy who harassed me earlier this morning. My eyes trail along the other team's bench, searching. The person that I had sprayed with pepper was sitting on the bench, a murderous countenance flashing on face.

"Oh no," I whisper.

"The irony," Marui's mouth twitched.

Be careful, Yanagi. Be careful, Jackal.

The two teams bowed to each other at the net while the referee ordered the two captains to shake hands. The guy I had sprayed stepped up and crushed Yukimura's hand as I winced.

"I am sorry everyone," I murmured to the Rikkaidai team as they gathered at the team bench. "I didn't think my actions would have such an effect."

"It's not your fault," Yukimura's eyes flashed as he spoke slowly. "Chances are that they would be like this regardless of you spraying the captain with pepper."

"Let us handle it," Yanagi said as he and Jackal gripped their tennis rackets and walked on to the court.

"Rikkaidai's Yanagi-Jackal pair versus Iwakki Kuokuo's Mori-Okada pair! Okada to serve!"

The silver-haired teenager bounced the ball a couple of times before throwing it high in the air. The ball flashed and suddenly disappeared. I blinked, trying to trace where the neon-green ball could be.

"Fifteen-love!"

"Did you see that?" I asked, prodding Marui.

"I think the better question is did _anyone_ see that?" he said back, eyes wide.

Jackal turned back around to face his sneering opponents and lowered his hips. The opponent slams into the ball again and I scan the court, catching a flicker of the ball this time as I was expecting it.

Jackal seems to have caught a view of the ball too as he swings and catches the ball off-center.

"Net! Thirty-love!"

He blinks and looks at his racket, swinging it a few times.

"Relax Jackal, I've analyzed it," Yanagi calls out.

"As expected of the 'Master,'" Marui murmurs, smiling.

"Master? You guys really suck at nicknames," I retort.

"Just watch," Marui shoots me an exasperated look.

I grin at his annoyance as Yanagi steps forward and backhands the ball across the net. The opponents cannot move as the ball lands on the perpendicular lines of the corner.

"Thirty-fifteen!"

I look at the Rikkaidai duo's opponents, "They're smiling. Why are they smiling?"

"We're Rikkaidai. If they smile or not, we will beat them six games to love," Marui clutches his unchained fist.

"You guys underestimate your opponents," I reply, remembering the first thing my brother truly taught me in tennis.

Okada hits a light serve this time, and it floats, almost lazily over the net. Jackal swings at it and the ball barely bounces off the racket. Okada smirk.

"For King Rikkaidai," Okada leers, "you're not very strong, are you?"

Jackal grits his teeth and Yanagi seems relatively unperturbed.

"Marui? Where is Okada getting his power from?" I ask, my brows furrowed.

"I think it's from his whole body because he doesn't seem very muscular. He's twisting his body with every shot, which means that he's being more efficient, but also using a lot of stamina. But they seem to be planning something," the redhead answers, blowing a gum bubble.

"Jackal and Yanagi aren't even close to playing at their full power, are they? Are they even playing at half their power?"

Marui shoots me a lazy grin, "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

I lean back on the palms of my hands, legs crossed and my laces of my boots clicking against the leather. I wonder out loud, "Did Jackal even play me at half-strength?"

Marui purses his lips, "Yeah, more than half. But not at full. It was a lesson in humility for him."

He bounces his legs up and down impatiently and I smile, "You want to be on that court with Jackal right now, don't you?"

He twists up half of his mouth, "Didn't think it was that obvious. But yeah."

"One game to love!" the referee calls in Rikkaidai's favor.

"Have you two achieved Synchro yet?" I drum my fingers against the wood of the bench.

"You know what Synchro is?"

"Yeah. Answer my question."

"Answer mine first," he answers defiantly, blowing another gum bubble and chewing.

"I hate to break up your lovely conversation," Niou drawls sarcastically, "but do you mind watching the match and talking at the same time?"

Marui and I narrow our eyes at the same time. "Be quiet," we chorus.

Sanada glares at us and Marui instantly shuts up and turns back to the game. I smile and wave at the uptight vice-captain, making him look away instead. Niou snickers, "Impressive. Klysen already controls Sanada."

Sanada pretends to not hear and I grin.

"Fifteen-love!"

Marui pokes my arm while watching the match, "Fine, I'll answer. We haven't, but we've never really ever been threatened during a game. Your turn."

"I may or may not have achieved Synchro."

"Wait what?"

I chuckle at his aghast expression.

"With my brother. He plays singles now, though. I wasn't cut for the tennis world."

"You're kidding me right? You're not cut for the tennis world but you achieved Synchro?"

I shrug, "I quit years ago to focus on swimming. My brother is a better singles player anyways."

"Thirty-love!"

"Okay, my turn. Have you ever played tennis seriously?"

I wrinkle my nose and think, "No. I don't think so. I'm not sure I even know how to. Playing Jackal was as close as I get to playing seriously."

"Forty-love!"

He shakes his head, "So basically, you don't even know your own potential."

I groan, "You sound like my Dad."

"No dating until you are thirty. Ask your mother. Money doesn't grow on trees," he mimics a stern tone that most Dads have.

I laugh.

"Two games to love!"

"Do you swim seriously?" he questions, watching Jackal slice a ball.

"I think so. I might. But I don't really know."

"Well why do you swim?"

"The same reason why you play tennis. It's just what I do," I tilt my head to the side, watching Yanagi mumble incoherently to himself.

"But I take tennis seriously."

"Fifteen-love!"

"Then I must take swimming seriously. Will you swing a thousand times just to perfect your backhand? Will you spend hours meticulously working on ball control."

"Yes," Marui answers without hesitation.

"Well that's how swimming is for me. I'll spend hours just for the feeling of flying across the water."

"That's different though. We play tennis for satisfaction, for winning. Not for an emotional fulfillment."

"Is it? Is it really different?"

He doesn't answer.

"Thirty-love!"

"See?" I counter. "You don't really know if it's different."

"What are you two talking about?" Akaya plops down beside me while his eyes are focused on the court.

"If tennis is fun or not," I reply.

"Of course it is," the second-year ace answers.

"Then why have you not achieved the Pinnacle of Perfection?" I point out, knowing that I had won the argument.

"Forty-love!"

"What do you mean?" Akaya frowns.

"The final door, right? Aren't you supposed to achieve it when you're having fun while playing and not really concerned about winning or losing, just like you did when you first started tennis?"

"Under that logic," Marui says slowly, thinking, "haven't you already unlocked it?"

A smile flashes across my face, "Who said I had to unlock it? The idea never left me. Well, except for when I played Jackal."

"Impressive," Niou comments, cutting into the conversation. "But that means you don't have the any of the other doors."

I shrug, "Don't need them. Don't want them."

"Three games to love!"

"Why not?" Akaya questions.

"I already helped my brother unlock them, which was good enough for me."

"All _three_?" Akaya says, his eyes wide.

I shrug again, "We got the idea from some people who taught my brother how to play in the US."

"Who taught him?" Marui prodded.

I flashed him a cryptic smile, not answering his question, and I turn back towards the game. The opponents were down three games as they continued to smile and Okada returned a slice Yanagi hit at him. Okada's legs twitched. I glanced at Okada's forehead and the swing of his racket.

"Okada is faking," I murmur.

"What are you talking about?" Marui frowns. "He couldn't possibly fake losing three games."

"Really? Because he's not sweating much. He would be sweating more if he was struggling, but he looks like he just warmed up."

"It's about time you two fools realized something was up," Niou drawls, rolling his eyes. "Just because you guys are chained together doesn't mean you share one brain."

Akaya laughs.

"Fifteen-love!" the referee calls as the ball rolls away on the opponent's side of the court.

"Ne, Nodoko. It's time we played seriously," Okada declares.

Play seriously? What were you doing up until now?

"You may be right Okada," Nodoko grins ferally.

Okada and Nodoko lower their stance into a crouch as Jackal serves with a shout of "Fire!"

Nodoko suddenly springs up and drags his racket across the court, before hitting the ball. Yanagi slams his racket into the ball and his hand begins to shake. The Data Master opens his mouth in shock as the ball blows away his racket.

"Fifteen all!"

His hand continues to tremble as he walks over to the tennis racket and picks it up.

"They call us the Tiger Pair, you know," Okada sneers as Jackal serves again. Okada lightly taps the ball and Jackal swings at the neon-green sphere. The ball makes an impact with the racket and bounces off the strings towards Jackal's face. It smashes into his cheek.

I gasp as Marui grips the edge of the bench and yells, "Jackal!"

"Fifteen-thirty!"

"You didn't seriously think we were that weak, did you?" Nodoko grins. "The team as a whole isn't ready to take 'King Rikkai' on but we are. We don't really care how we place in districts, as long as we can move on to the Prefectural Tournament. If we can take down a few members though, we're all for it."

Jackal's hand rests on his cheek and I wince at his expression as his face starts to swell slightly. Yanagi clenches his jaw.

"We'll see," Yanagi grips his tennis racket and walks to his position.

"Fire!" Jackal yells as he uses his body to force the ball to fly over the net. Okada springs up from his crouch, not unlike a tiger, and strikes the sphere nonchalantly again.

Jackal swings at the ball, but as soon as the ball collides with the strings on his racket, it bounces towards his torso. He grimaces as it hits him square in the chest, knocking the Brazilian down. The fangirls scream and cry at their fallen hero.

"Fifteen-forty!"

"I don't understand," I murmur. "He's barely touching the ball. How and what kind of spin is he putting on it to make it hit Jackal after impacting the strings of his racket?"

"I don't know," Marui snarls," but I don't care. He has some nerve to hurt people like that."

I couldn't even try to calm down the redhead because I felt just as fired up and mad.

"I just hope he's alright," I concur.

"Fire!" Jackal screams, frustrated, as he serves.

The ball goes untouched.

"Thirty-forty!"

The Brazilian tosses the ball up again and slams into it with a "Fire!"

"Forty-forty!"

And again.

"Four games to love!"

Okada and Nodoko shrug as former tilts his head with his hands on his hips, "We just wanted to give you a little taste of our true power. Don't worry, we'll be nice for the rest of the match."

Next to me, Akaya looks murderous, "How_ dare_ they?"

"Calm down," I order. "You can't do anything by getting angry."

"The opponents are probably tired too," Marui frowns. "They played matches earlier."

"They're good actors," I agree, narrowing my eyes at the sweating, ferocious pair.

Okada tosses the ball up and hits it, sending it flying. Yanagi easily rallies it back and the Iwakki Kuokuo pair don't even move.

"Fifteen-love!"

"That was easily within their reach," I seethe. "Don't tell me they are throwing the rest of the game."

"They must be," Marui reasons. "They know that Yanagi will figure out a way to counter their moves so they have to stop if they want to win in the future tournaments. They're already moving on, so they must not care."

"Despicable," Sanada rumbles.

Yagyuu pushes his glasses up his nose and folds his arms across his chest, his spectacles masking his emotions.

"Thirty-love!" the referee calls. I missed Rikkai's point because I was so occupied with everyone's reactions.

I didn't even feel as if I was obligated to try to watch the majority of the rest of the game, as I was so disgusted.

"Forty-love!"

I hear the bouncing of balls and the slaps of tennis rackets and the squealing of fangirls as I shut my eyes, trying to wipe away my revulsion.

"Five games to love!"

"Keep your eyes closed," Marui warns. "It's not worth watching anymore. Iwakki Kuokuo's pair is either barely hitting their serves or letting our returns go through, both on purpose."

"Fifteen-love!"

I breathe in and twist my back so that my back pops, letting my spine loosen.

"Thirty-love!"

I open my eyes to the frowns of Rikkaidai and the mocking smiles of Iwakki Kuokuo.

"Forty-love!"

Exhaling, I fix my stare on both Okada and Nokodo as they pretend to miss the ball.

"Six games to love!"

The Iwakki Kuokuo pair walk up to the net, ridiculing the Rikkai pair with the grins stretched across their faces. Yanagi and Jackal didn't look like they wanted to shake the deceiving pair's hands but did so anyways, their faces reflecting their murderous rage.

I stood up.

"What are you doing?" Marui asks.

I refuse to answer as I drag him from sitting to standing and over to Yukimura's bag.

"May I?" I ask Yukimura.

He arches his brow, realizing what I was intending. He nods, not bothering to answer verbally.

I unzip the bag and dig around for a plastic box, ignoring the stares of everyone else on the team. I enclose a box full of bandages and other first-aid supplies in my hand and pull it out.

"Jackal!" I wave over the Brazilian as he stomps towards the bench.

"What?" he growls.

"Sit," I push him down on the bench as Marui pokes my shoulder, still asking me the same question.

I pull out the instant cold pack, drop it on to the ground, and stomp on it, effectively making it cold. Picking it up, I place it on Jackal's swelling cheek.

"Thank you," he murmurs, downcast, clutching at the cold bag of chemicals.

"Well," Yagyuu claps his hand on his knees and stands up, drawing his racket from his bag. "I suppose it's our turn."

Sanada grunts in agreement and pulls his cap further over his eyes while grabbing his own racket and stalking off towards the court with Yagyuu in tow.

I simply punch another cold pack and give it to Marui to hold to Jackal's chest, feeling as if Jackal's pride had been ruined enough for the day and that I would just ruin it further if I gave him too much attention.

"Rikkaidai's Sanada-Yagyuu pair versus Iwakki Kuokuo's Kita-Maki pair! Sanada to serve!"

Sanada wastes no time in serving and letting the ball fly past the opponents.

"Fifteen-love!"

"Sanada's mad," Marui remarked. "It's not so much that Jackal got hurt but the fact that the opponent's messed with us."

"Anyone would be frustrated," I pointed out as Sanada slams into the ball again.

"Yeah, well he's still being merciful," the redhead commented.

"Thirty-love!"

"How so?"

Sanada tosses the ball up, and in a blink of an eye, the ball disappears.

"Forty-love!"

The ball rolls away on Iwakki Kuokuo's side.

"That's why," Marui twists his mouth. "He hadn't used the Invisible Serve from the start."

My eyes widen, trying to figure out how I was unable to see the ball.

"But…h..how?" I stutter as the vice-captain crashes his racket into the neon-green sphere.

"One game to love!"

Marui hands Jackal the second cold pack and plops down on the bench, pulling me down as well.

"That's vice-captain for you," Akaya grins. "He's one of the strongest people on the Junior High circuit along with Yanagi-senpai and captain."

Kita tosses the ball up and barely hits it into the other court. The Iwakki Kuokuo pair look terrified.

Niou cuts in, "We're the strongest team on the circuit, Bakaya. Of course we have some of the strongest people," he rolls his eyes.

"Fifteen-love!"

"But there is a reason he's called 'The Emperor,'" Marui explains. "He's just that good."

"Hm," I tap my fingers against my chin, watching the nonexistent rally between the two pairs.

"Thirty-love!"

Niou groans and stretches his arms, "This is unbelievably boring and predictable."

"Forty-love!"

The corner of my mouth twitches, "And yet your fangirls haven't stopped screaming since this morning."

"Two games to love!"

"Ah well," Niou grins lazily, "they do that regardless if we want them to."

"Funny," Jackal retorts. "You can control them the best."

"Fifteen-love!"

"They're both terrified of you and yet they adore you at the same time," Marui agrees.

"They would do anything you asked them to," Akaya nods.

The Trickster throws his hands up in defense, "Sorry, can't help that people respect me."

"Thirty-love!"

"That's not respect," Marui begins.

"That's just worship," Jackal concludes.

"Seventy-six percent chance that the fangirls would commit a crime if you told them too," Yanagi analyzes.

"Forty-love!"

Surprisingly enough, my ears had gotten used to the screeches surrounding the court very quickly. It almost seemed normal on a slightly cloudy April day for the shrieks of almost a hundred girls and a few boys to be part of the background noise.

"Three games to love!"

I yawn and cover my mouth, not wanting people to see my tonsils, while the chain that connects me to Marui clinks. It was slightly warm outside and the monotonous game was making me a bit sleepy. I shook my head to clear the haze from my head and brushed my bangs out of my eyes.

"Fifteen-love!"

"I feel you," Marui whispers. "I want to sleep too."

"Stop telling people you want to sleep with them," Niou frowns. "That's not how you do it. I'll help you in that aspect if you want."

"Thirty-love!"

Marui blanches and I chuckle, knowing Niou's joke was harmless.

"Niou?" I said with a smile on my face.

"Hm?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Forty-love!"

"I want you to know that if I ever have the authority to make you run laps," I tilt my head and let the sweetest tone I could muster flow from my mouth, "you're going to die running for handcuffing us."

He grins back, clearly amused.

"Four games to love!"

"Ninety-three percent chance that Klysen-san would make Niou run until he collapsed," Yanagi declares.

"One hundred percent chance that she'll never get to," Yukimura narrows his eyes with his small smile plastered on his face.

I smile, "Never say never, Yukimura."

"Fifteen-love!"

I rubbed at my left shoulder, trying to will the dull ache to dissipate as I had ignored it all day. I rubbed my index and middle finger at the pressure point between my shoulder and neck and let the tension lift off my left shoulder. I wish I could do the same to my right, but the handcuffs prevented me from doing so.

"Thirty-love!"

I exhaled, my shoulders feeling much lighter. I only wish I could tape them up.

"What are we going to do after the match?" Akaya asked.

"Practice," Yukimura shrugged. "There's nothing challenging about this tournament, even though we had a couple of setbacks."

"Forty-love!"

"So cruel," I murmured, smiling. "Even I get breaks after meets. My coach says I'm off today because I need to rest."

He glares at me, somehow while smiling, "There's a difference between the tennis team and a sole swimmer."

"Really? Enlighten me," I smile back, not backing down from an argument.

"Five games to love!"

"First off, we're a national-level team," he narrows his eyes, not turning away from the game.

"I'm a high leveled swimmer," I counter, not wanting to say on what level I was on in the US.

"Maybe, but we're a team," Yukimura continues.

"Fifteen-love!"

"Swimming is strictly an individual sport. Tennis is both individual and played as a team to advance," I contradict.

"Tennis is actually respected," he smirks.

"So is swimming. Matter of fact, internationally it's more respected than tennis."

"Thirty-love!"

"Enough," Yanagi interrupts. "Yes, although we do deserve rest from time to time, now is not the time to have this conversation."

I deflate from Yanagi's scolding.

"Forty-love!"

"If it makes you feel better," Marui speaks softly so that only I could hear, "I agree."

"I want a break sometimes too," Akaya frowns, whispering.

"Game and match, Rikkaidai! Six games to love!"

The fangirls scream their approval and jump up and down. The Iwakki Kuokuo shake Sanada's and Yagyuu's hands, and trudge away to their bench, heads low. Sanada and Yagyuu return, the first with with his mouth in a firm line and the second relaxed.

"You're next, Akaya," Sanada said.

The second-year ace jumps up and rustles around in his bag for his favorite racket. Pulling it out, he nearly prances on to the court, eyes ready for battle.

"I will crush you," he threatens out loud. The opposing team's player steps on to the court, swinging his racket, smirking.

"Just go ahead and try," he leers, his face half-red.

The person I had sprayed with pepper spray this morning flips his racket in the air and catches it, sneering.

"Rikkaidai's Kirihara versus Iwakki Kuokuo's Matsuo! Matsuo to serve!"

Matsuo slowly walks over to the position behind the service line, "Tell that pretty girl with your team that you will pay the brunt of her actions."

My eyes widen as his words register.

"No…" I whisper, mortified at what he would do.

"It's alright," Marui soothes. "He knows how to take care of himself."

Akaya licks his upper lip as Matsuo tosses the ball up and cuts it, letting it flash in the air before bouncing on Kirihara's side. The junior ace sends it flying back as a fast rally takes place before my eyes. Suddenly, Matsuo seems to disappear.

My eyes roam the court, searching for the Iwakki Kuokuo representative, while I worried for Akaya. Akaya smacks the racket against the ball and suddenly Matsuo springs up and hits it back, nearly hitting Akaya. Akaya hits it to the corner and Matsuo doesn't even move.

"Fifteen-love!"

"Oh dear me," he smirks, hand over his forehead dramatically. "It looks like I missed."

I hissed, "Don't tell me he was trying to hit Akaya."

"Violence versus violence?" Marui's eyes widen.

What does he mean violence versus violence? Akaya couldn't possibly…

"Rikkaidai will win," Yanagi reassured. "Don't worry about Akaya. You should be worried about Matsuo."

Matsuo sends a flat serve flying and sprints towards the net. Serve and volley player, hm? Akaya lobs with a topspin, so that the ball drops right inside the line.

"Thirty-love!"

"This is dangerous," Marui murmurs.

"Yeah, this guy could hurt Akaya," I agree, brows furrowed.

"No, not that. He shouldn't come up to the net unless he wants to get hurt," the redhead bobs his head.

I look at Akaya, who licks his upper lip again. He looked strangely….demonic.

"No…" I whisper. "No, he can't."

The memories of my brother come rushing back to me. His easygoing nature outside of the court hardened into a scary, even devilish nature inside. I turned a blind eye to what happened to his opponents before, until it happened to me. He swore that it was an accident but I didn't believe him, so I forced him to change. Don't tell me that Akaya was the same way.

A call of "Forty-love" snaps me out of my recollection.

Matsuo serves the ball and runs up to the net again. The volley exchange ends with Akaya springing into the air and smashing the ball.

Straight into Matsuo's knee.

"Akaya," I gasp, feeling bad for Matsuo even though he had harassed me earlier. I felt worse for Akaya, knowing exactly how he felt because my brother was the same. The crazed look on the junior's face had replaced his earlier easygoing nature.

"One game to love!"

The court stayed silent as Iwakki Kuokuo's bench looked furious, watching their player fall on to the ground while clutching his knee.

Matsuo grabs his racket, pushes himself back up, and cackles.

"This doesn't seem right," Niou wrinkles his nose. "Normally Kirihara is the one who is laughing."

"Oh," Matsuo pants, lifting himself back to full height. "You'll pay. You'll pay for what you just did and for that little girl."

His words sent a chill down my spine. Akaya simply smirked and walked behind the service line, ready to serve. He sent the ball flying over the net and Matsuo slices it back. The ball bounced on Akaya's side and Matsuo laughs.

I watch, horrified, as the ball bounces irregularly into Akaya's wrist. It didn't seem to hit very hard, but you never know.

"Love-fifteen!"

Akaya frowns, checking his wrist and then smirks, "You'll have to do better than that."

The two players sneer at each other, before Akaya serves again. Matsuo slices back, and this time Akaya stands farther away from where the ball bounces before returning, letting the ball bounce on the opposing court safely.

"Fifteen all!"

Akaya slams into the ball, leaving a dark mark on Matsuo's side of the court.

"Thirty-fifteen!"

"No touch ace," I murmur.

"But was that on purpose?" Marui adds.

Matsuo seemed to be sweating a lot for the second game and Kirihara's usual demeanor seemed to be completely gone.

"Forty-fifteen," the referee called at another no touch serve.

"Matsuo is throwing the game," Niou observes. "He can't keep up with Kirihara's tendencies. It's not the play that's draining him, it's the mental game."

"Two games to love!"

Kirihara walked to the service box as Matsuo chugged water down his throat. He gulps and gasps as he returns to the line to serve. Tossing the neon-green orb up, he slams into it, making it fly over the net. Akaya backhands it powerfully, sending the two into a long rally.

I try to follow the ball as I feel more and more lightheaded as Akaya and my memories of my brother meshed together. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the bloodshot eyes. I dabbed at the beads of sweat on my forehead and unzipped my jacket, feeling slightly dizzy. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest.

I watched as three more games zipped by, with both of the players attacking each other's bodies. Neither backed down as they smirked at one another, flakily apologizing if they managed to connect with a limb.

Matsuo hit a high lob and Akaya tried to backpedal to reach the ball. He extended his racket out, barely connecting before falling on his side, next to Rikkaidai's empty coach bench. Oddly enough, I couldn't figure out why no one was filling it. Normally it would be the captain, but Yukimura wasn't sitting in his rightful place.

"Akaya," I gasp at the fallen player.

Sanada folds his arms across his chest as the rest of the team waited anxiously. I took deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart, which beat erratically at the tennis player that acted so much like my brother. I stood up, dizzy, trying to shake the haze.

"Klysen-chan?" Marui questioned.

Akaya stood up, pushing himself off the ground and cackling. My blood froze at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and I scream.

* * *

The unusual girl beside me yells, "AKAYA!" I look up just in time to see her wobble on her feet and her eyes flutter closed as she falls to the ground. Shooting out my empty hand, I catch her before she hits the ground and she lies nestled against the arm around her waist.

"Klysen-chan?"

No response. I shake her slightly.

"Klysen?"

Yagyuu frowns, "I'm calling the ambulance. You stay with her."

I put the back of my chained hand on her forehead, making her arm move around with mine. It was normal to the touch but something seriously looked wrong with her.

"Well, I intended for you two to get closer, but I didn't think you would turn into her knight in shining armor just yet," Niou grins.

His comment makes me snap and I seethe, "Do you think this is funny? She could seriously be sick!"

Niou backs away with his hands in the air, "Touchy, touchy."

Kirihara sprints over to the bench as his bloodshot eyes slowly fade, "Jade? Jade!?"

"Get back on the court," Sanada commands. "We'll take care of it, just win the game."

Of _it_? Sanada didn't even treat her as a human.

I sat down with my arm around her waist, her leaning against me and I slowly lowered her head to the bench so she lay supine. I poured water on to a dry, unused towel and patted it against her face, hoping she would wake up. Yet, no response came from her.

Yagyuu gets off the phone and tosses is back into his bag, "They should be here within five minutes."

"Six games to love!" the referee calls after Kirihara slams the ball onto the opponent's side. "Rikkaidai Fuzoku is the winner of the district preliminaries!"

The fangirls cheer and I ignore the ones calling my name, focusing on the pale female that was unconscious. I brush away a lock of hair on her brow by instinct and then turned pink, hoping that no one saw me do that. I glance up and Yanagi is turned towards me with his eyebrows raised, even though his eyelids remained shut. I wouldn't put it past the Data Master to analyze everything about the situation.

Her steady breathing was reassuring as I patted the wet towel against her temple again; she was still pale, or at least, paler than usual.

"Niou!" I call to the Trickster.

"What?" he jogs back over.

"Do you actually have the key to these handcuffs?" I whisper.

"Yeah, it's not at home. It is in my bag. I just wanted an excuse to keep you two uncomfortable," he shrugs.

I ignore my irritation and sigh, "Well, act like you don't have it. I'm using it as a reason to go in the ambulance with her."

He opens his mouth and before he can say anything I add, "Don't say anything funny. Seriously."

Niou nods, looking over my face and sees me completely seriousness, which rarely occurs.

"If you have anything to say, you can say it at the hospital. We probably need to take Akaya there anyways because he went into his mode."

Niou nods again, "Yeah, I'm surprised Akaya used it."

We pause, realizing we called our junior-ace by his first name.

"Well, we're really close to him anyways," both of us say at the same time, shrugging and we grin at each other for thinking along the same lines.

Two paramedics rush on to the court with a gurney. I was surprised that I didn't hear sirens, but she didn't seem to be dying, so that would explain the lack of urgency.

"What happened?" one asked me, "And why are you handcuffed to her?"

"Ah, that would be my fault," Niou frowns. "I was playing a prank on the two."

"She was watching the game and seemed to be shocked by something. She started shaking and then lost balance and fainted," I included.

"She's out cold," the other paramedic observed her eye movement by pulling her eyelids open. "This is more than just shock. I would estimate that she is greatly stressed and she's been under serious trauma."

Trauma? What trauma?

The two paramedics lift her on to the gurney and I walk beside the stretcher, my wrist still chained to hers.

"Captain!" I call to Yukimura. "Bring Akaya to the hospital to check on his mental capabilities. I'll see you there."

He just nods as Kirihara whines, "Can I go on the ambulance too? Please?"

Sanada shakes his head, "No."

The sounds from the court fade away as the gurney is wheeled away towards the ambulance at the front of the park. The team we faced during finals was jeering at her condition and I wish I could punch one of them in the face. Knowing Niou, he would probably cause problems for that team for me.

A third paramedic exits the ambulance and aids the first two in pulling the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. I climb in as they pull her in and sit in an empty chair next to the stretcher while they close the ambulance doors and the vehicle drives off.

The third paramedic snorts, "I've seen a lot of things, but I haven't seen two people handcuffed together being in the ambulance."

I close my eyes and grimace, "Our friend thought it would be funny to chain us two together."

I block out the first two paramedics explaining to the third her condition and one of the three pulls an oxygen mask over her face and elevates her feet. "It's so more blood can go to her head," he explains.

I breathe in deeply, thinking of the girl who fed me earlier, talked to me, played with the team. The picture of her holding her hair back and her icy blues kept surfacing in my head even though I tried to block the memory. The chatter of the paramedics fill the silence as I remained quiet, wondering what was wrong with the girl who seemed to be changing how the Rikkaidai tennis team worked.

"Does she do any drugs? Drink alcohol? Is she physically active?" one asks, probing into her background.

"No drugs or alcohol that I know of," my eyebrows furrow. "She plays tennis for fun and she swims competitively. If I'm not mistaken, she's on a national level, especially in the US."

"The US? Did she recently move here?"

"I believe so," I reply.

The paramedics exhale. One mutters, "Just great."

Another explains, "It's going to be harder to figure out her medical history if she's from another country and hasn't sent her files to any doctors or hospitals here. We might not even know her emergency contacts here. Does she even speak Japanese?"

"Yeah, perfect Japanese," I answer.

"Hm."

The ambulance slows to a stop and nurses and other paramedics open the doors of the back and pull the stretcher down. I get out at the same time and walk along the gurney which was jostled by every crack in the concrete as they wheeled it into the emergency section of the hospital.

"Give her a separate room," one of the paramedics advises. "We suspect complications other than fainting. She seems to be under stress, shock, and trauma, possibly from a memory in the past."

"What is her full name?" a nurse asks while changing the direction she wheels the stretcher in. "The doctor needs to see her full medical history."

"Klysen Jade," I respond. "She moved here recently. I don't know if her medical history is here."

"Three, two, one, lift!" the nurses lift her body onto a bed in an enclosed room. "Let's put an IV on her and check her blood sugar and hydration levels."

The nurses bustle around her, poking her with needles and drawing blood. I sit on the edge of the bed and find myself holding her hand that was chained to me, wincing at the hospital's smell.

A nurse bursts into the room, "We found her medical files. She sent copies of them here before she moved. We have a copy of her insurance and her emergency contact is listed as the Atobe family."

The other nurses snap their head up.

"The _Atobe_ family?!" they chorus, surprised.

I wasn't shocked at all. After all, she said they were childhood friends and that their parents used to be close.

The nurses started arguing over who should call the famously rich family and I closed my eyes, irritated. No matter where you went, there would always be the fan girls.

The nurses finally finish fixing in the IV line and file out of the room, still bickering about who should call the Atobes. A doctor slips into the room and checks the status of Klysen and reads from her medical file.

"Are you family or friend?"

"Friend," I reply.

"Well, she's had trauma and shock. And she has not gotten her most recent treatment for her condition."

I frown, "What condition?"

"She has focal nodular hyperplasia. In other words, she has a tumor in her liver. It's been recorded as benign but it has been known to turn malicious in other female patients her age. We require MRIs and sonograms to make sure that the tumor doesn't turn into cancer."

I blink, letting the words soak into my brain. Cancer? Tumor? I squeeze her hand that I was chained to, the one lacking the IV, and rub circles with my thumb on her pale and surprisingly soft skin. "Will she be alright?"

"She should be fine if we continuously test her. She should have had her last exam four weeks ago, but she skipped it. We have to test her every two months, but since she is a minor, we need the confirmation of family or guardians before we test her. She doesn't seem to have any here, but the Atobe family is listed as her temporary guardians in Japan."

The words coming out of the doctor's mouth seemed to spin around me, making me confused. A single, "Ok," is all I could manage in response.

"Currently people are calling the Atobe family so we can test her and check her status. Until then, everything is on hold."

I nod and the doctor leaves the room with long strides. I brush away stray strands that lay on her face and I hear soft knocks on the door.

Glancing up, I see the team hovering on the threshold. A grin stretches over my face at the familiar people.

"Ne Marui," Niou grins, "you seem to be very happy with your position. By the way, we brought your tennis bag that you left."

My smile drops off my face as I recall the words that I told Niou earlier, that he could tease me as much as he wished in the hospital.

"Did you hear anything the doctor said?" I ask, ignoring Niou's taunts.

"No. Why?" Jackal responds.

"No reason," I reply, thinking that Klysen probably wouldn't want people to know. "They're calling the Atobe family because they're her emergency contact."

Sanda wrinkles his nose at the mention of the egotistical Atobe.

"Yo Niou, you think you can unlock me now?"

He smirks, "What if I don't want to?"

Regardless, he jabs the key in the handcuff locks and frees my wrist from the chain that bonded me and Klysen together. I rub at the chaffed skin and toss the metal at Niou's face. He dodges it and chuckles.

A nurse peeks in, "Can everyone in this room please leave for five minutes? I have to change her into a hospital gown."

I reluctantly get up, wanting to stay beside the unconscious girl, and walk away from the hospital bed, following the regulars outside the door.

"Have you checked on Akaya yet?" I ask.

"Yes, he's fine," Sanada replies. "Yukimura is with him and they should be coming down any minute."

"Niou-san, stop trying to peek through the door's window," Yagyuu warns.

He smirks and puts his hands behind his head, turning away from the door.

Akaya briskly walks into the area, Yukimura at his heels placidly smiling. Akaya is frowning, "How is Jade?"

Everyone turns to me and I shrug, "She has an IV and has to go for some tests. Basically, they said she needs rest," I fib.

A pause fills the air and Yanagi helpfully interrupts, "Ninety-three percent chance that Maui is lying."

I blanch, caught.

The nurse saves the day by opening the door, "You can come back in."

I'm the first one through the door and beside Klysen, not wanting to look at Yanagi or Akaya. The others talk about the matches today and I interject comments time to time. My right hand feels empty as I sit on the edge of the bed, the same way I had done before. Her hand was inches away and yet I had no excuse to touch it again.

"Why are we here?" Sanada questions.

"I think because Marui and Akaya want to be here," Jackal cuts in.

Blood rushes to my face.

"Also, she practices with us. It was the right thing to do," Yagyuu says, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Sanada doesn't respond, unsatisfied.

"We're staying until Atobe gets here," I say firmly.

No one bothers to argue with me. Akaya sits on the other side of the bed and bobs his head up and down in agreement. I could tell something was bothering him.

* * *

"We're staying until Atobe gets here."

The words reverberate in my head as I try to figure out why everything was black. I could not move and I felt like I was tightly binded and my eyelids were glued shut.

This must be how mummies feel. If they could feel anything, that is.

I felt someone gently touch my right hand and the light chatter around me. Where was I?

* * *

We sit for about two hours, talking about tennis until Atobe Keigo bursts into the room.

"Out of my way!" he snarls, waving his arms. Akaya actually obeys and gets off the side of the bed and Atobe pushes a chair to her right side. He dumps something on the bedside table.

He grabs her hand, "I hope you can hear me. Mom and Dad already signed the release so you'll be okay. I brought lilies because I know they're your favorite and a picture of Portland because I know you miss it."

Atobe glances up and looks around the room, "Why are you all here? Get out."

I narrow my eyes, "I'm not leaving."

Jackal touches my shoulder, "We should go, Marui."

I sigh resignedly, knowing that he was right. The regulars exit the room before I rise from the bed. Suddenly, I feel a soft hand around my wrist.

* * *

"I hope you can hear me. Mom and Dad already signed the release so you'll be okay. I brought lilies because I know they're your favorite and a picture of Portland because I know you miss it," says a familiar voice.

Keigo? He never speaks in Japanese to me unless if he's worried or upset.

"Why are you all here? Get out," he commands.

I try to pry open my eyelids and fail again, wondering how I was ever going to be conscious. I could feel myself getting tired while I tried to move my hand. My eyelids felt so, so heavy.

"I'm not leaving," Marui says. I had recognized his voice a while ago.

"We should go Marui," says the deeper voice of the Brazilian.

The whole Rikkaidai tennis team was in my room. If any fangirls found out, I would be in so much trouble but I did not want Marui to leave. The team had commented how Marui was with me in the ambulance and had not left, even when Niou took off the handcuffs.

In my panic, I tried to lift my heavy eyelids again and this time I succeeded. Marui was getting off the bed and I shoot my left hand out and try to grab his arm.

"Marui," I croak, my throat dry.

"Klysen?" he turns, his eyes wide.

"Sapphire, you idiot," Keigo growls at me in English.

I let go of Marui's wrist and he sits back down on the edge of my bed, smiling. I turn my head towards Keigo, "Why am I an idiot this time?" I smile and reply in English, clutching the cup of water Keigo handed me.

"Why didn't you tell me about your liver?" he barks at me.

My smile drops off my face and I attempt to sit up while I sip at the water, spilling half the cup over myself. Marui shifts my pillow so I could rest against the headboard.

"Marui?"

"Yeah?"

"I assume the doctor already told you about my condition, didn't he? Does everyone else on the team know?" I ask, my face turning into a mask.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. He did but no one else on the team knows."

"Good," I reply, and turn toward Keigo. "The only people who knew about my liver was my family, and I intended to keep it that way."

He stands up, agitated. "You don't get to choose that because you're in Japan now," he says angrily, switching back to Japanese.

"Are you trying to control my life?" I arch a single eyebrow, feeling my rage rise at what he was dictating.

"If it keeps you safe, then yes!" he yells back. "Your family isn't here anymore and your parents are _dead._"

My last thread of patience breaks. "How dare you. My parents are not dead. They are not dead." I spit at him, shouting back. "My family name is Klysen. Do you know what that means? It means that my brother and I are inheriting a major company in the future. It means that I have the ability to control my own life. IT MEANS THAT YOU CAN NEVER HAVE POWER OVER ME."

I breathe heavily at my outburst and Marui is holding me down on the bed, making sure I don't get up.

"Get out," I snarl at Keigo, not answering my tirade.

He storms out of the room and bangs the door closed as I struggle to get my blood pressure down and I turn towards Marui, who was looking at me with concern and surprise and I sigh.

"Sorry," I mutter. "Is the rest of the team still here?"

"It's fine, I just didn't expect you to be so….fiery," he grins. "They should be right outside the door," he adds, sitting back and letting go of my shoulder.

"No offense, but do you think I can talk to Akaya and Yukimura privately?"

He gets up, "Sure. I will send them in."

He walks out the door and I can't help but feel empty inside. Akaya and Yukimura enter, the first full of energy and the second one looks strangely drained.

"Sit," I demand, gesturing at the empty chair. Yukimura sits and Akaya plops himself down on the edge of the right bed.

"Akaya?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous your tennis is?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

He sighs, "It's the only way I can be strong."

"You play like my brother does," I exhale. "He used to play like that. He said he never wanted to play me because he was afraid that one day, he would hurt me. I laughed back then, not believing him, until he did when I played him. The only time he did not play like that was when he played with me in doubles, so I retrained him to act as if he was playing doubles with me. Not only is he calmer on the courts now, but he has gotten over his anger and plays better. He's playing in the French Open soon."

"I've tried to stop. I can't."

"I'll train you until you can. That excuse is unacceptable," I groan, stretching my sore shoulders. "You're not playing like that anymore."

His emerald eyes shine with happiness, "Thank you, Jade," he chokes out.

I nod, "Go get some fresh air," I jerk my head toward the door. "You need some time to yourself."

He smiles and leaves the room, leaving Yukimura shut in a room with me.

"You are a fool," I say bluntly.

He lifts an eyebrow, prompting me to explain.

"You think no one can recognize that you're speaking slower, not comfortable walking, and weaker in general. If you don't get treatment while you are in this hospital, I will personally ask for the nurses to restrain you and do a basic checkup."

"I am not weak," he denies leisurely, not bothering to smile.

"Why aren't you smiling like you normally do?"

He shrugs, "Don't feel like it."

"Or you can't," I retort.

"I think we are done here," he stands up and walks towards the door. He looks very pale and his legs shake. Suddenly, his muscles become tense and he falls to the ground.

"Yukimura? YUKIMURA!" I scream. The door bursts open and I crawl over to the red button next to the headboard of the bed. Slamming my fist on it, sirens go off in the hospital room and tennis players and nurses run into the room.

* * *

I hear a cry in the room and fling the door open, not expecting to see Yukimura lying on the ground. It was odd enough when she yelled at Atobe in front of me, but I didn't expect Yukimura.

"Yukimura?!" Sanada exclaims, sliding on to the ground next to Yukimura, cradling his head.

"Captain!" Akaya shrieks.

I jump over the captain's body to catch Klysen, who was about to fall out of the bed after punching the nurse call button. I grab her arms as she topples out of the bed and on top of me.

"Don't worry about me," she pants. "Your captain is in a lot more danger."

The nurses are lifting him up on to a stretcher and wheeling him to the emergency room, the regulars frantically milling around the gurney.

"He has enough attention right now," I frown, worried. "The other regulars are just going to be in the nurses' way. It's best that I stay here."

"Funny," her mouth twitches. "Most people are irrational when they panic."

"I am a genius," I give her my usual response. "I am always rational."

She laughs, despite being on top of me, and then realizes her position and a red blush spreads across her cheeks.

"Sorry," she gasps and attempts to lift herself off and fails, as I am still clutching her arms.

I let go, my cheeks now mirroring hers. She pushes herself off successfully and fixes her thin hospital gown. I spring to my feet as she slides back into the bed. A nurse walks in and checks on her IV line attached to her hand.

"Well, nothing seems to be wrong. You did a good job on getting your friend medical attention in time. It's a good thing that you're awake now."

"Ah, thank you," she bobs her head.

"Well, you're due for your sonogram and MRI. We will send you down into radiology in a while, alright? I assume you know the drill about not eating before."

"Yes. May I ask for a favor?"

"Of course," the nurse replies.

"If you have a supply of athletic tape, could you possibly tape both of my shoulders?"

She wants her shoulders taped? How much pain was this girl in?

"I'll go and try to find some. Drink plenty of water before your sonogram."

She leaves and my curiosity gets the better of me, "Why do they give you a sonogram if you're clearly not pregnant?"

"She's pregnant?" Niou's face reflects horror as he and the other regulars stand in the doorway.

"The doctors sent us away from Yukimura. They're assessing him right now," Yanagi explains. Everyone seemed extremely worried at Yukimura's state, and even I concerned about the fragile state of the captain.

"Jade, you're pregnant? Do you even know who the father is?" Akaya cries out, terrified.

Klysen and I look at each other and we burst into peals of laughter.

* * *

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	10. Thin Ice

**Disclaimer: You know what I'm going to say.**

**Please enjoy!**

* * *

I sigh, leaning on the headboard of the hospital bed, missing the regulars who had filled my head with incessant babble. They had long left, leaving me to take care of the medical tests myself. The usual sonogram and blood tests left me with warm, gooey gel on my stomach and a bruised inner elbow while I grew increasingly bored.

I felt bad for yelling at Keigo. I knew how far back we went and that it was only natural for him to worry. And yet, I was adamantly steadfast in what I said. We were separate people and that's how it was supposed to be.

There was a soft knock on the door and it creaked open. I glanced up. Keigo's parents were in the doorway, smiling.

"Hello," Mrs. Atobe said in English.

I had always called them Mr. and Mrs. Atobe, even though they insisted I should not. They claimed it made them feel old. They had always talked to me in English.

"Hi," I murmured shyly in the same language. "It's nice to see both of you again."

"We're checking you out," Mr. Atobe nodded. "You're staying with us tonight, and then you can go home tomorrow."

I frowned, thinking of how I yelled at Keigo. Well, this would all be awkward.

Mrs. Atobe smiled knowingly, "He's in the car, waiting."

Car? So, it must be a limo.

"We will just wait for you to change, and then we'll leave," Mr. Atobe added.

They stepped out of the room and the door swung shut with a click.

I grabbed my clothes that the nurse had put on the side table a while earlier. My new favorite jacket took its rightful place, wrapped around my shoulders, as I slid off the paper hospital gown and pulled on my jeans and boots. I ruffled my hair, standing up and stalking towards the door to my freedom.

Opening the door, I looked left and right to find where Keigo's parents went. They were nowhere in sight. Furrowing my brows, I chose to turn right and try to find them in the hallway. The pediatric care area was not that big and circled the whole floor. Passing by several doors including one with a slender bluenette, I searched for what I considered my second-parents.

A slender bluenette?

I quickly backtracked and pressed my face against the window to Yukimura's door. He sat quietly, back against the headboard and looking out the window. I swung the door open, not bothering to be hushed.

He turned his head and muttered, "Oh, it's you."

I shook my head with a lopsided smile. Sitting on a chair next to his bed, I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to voice the unanswered question.

"They don't know," Yukimura responds.

The slender blunette looked so vulnerable without his façade. His hands were clasped together, his eyes were wide, and his usual smile was absent.

"They say they want to do a few tests tomorrow, so I might be in the hospital a while," he continues, biting his lip. "The team doesn't know, and they think there's practice tomorrow. I don't know what to say."

"Let Sanada handle it," I suggest, knowing it was better to talk about a safe topic. "He's the vice-captain."

He looks at me, visibly amused, "For a vice-captain, you really don't treat him as one."

I shrug, grinning, "Well, what would be the fun in that? Besides, he's not _my_ vice-captain. I'm technically my own captain."

"Of a non-existent team," he retorts back. "Besides, I can't. He's so stoic, he won't know how to handle it if I tell him that I could be in the hospital for a while."

"You have his number, don't you?"

"What kind of captain do you think I am?"

"Call him and tell him and the rest of the team to meet tomorrow next to the pool at school at 10:00 in the morning. Tell them to bring tennis rackets, normal tennis stuff, and swim gear. I'll take care of it from there," I stand up, realizing that I had completely forgotten about Keigo's parents. I interrupt Yukmimura's attempt to protest, "It's my get-well present, captain to fellow captain."

He slumps his shoulders, yet to pull on his famous façade that puzzled me, "Very well then, if you insist."

I smile, knowing I had won the battle but not the war as I slipped out to door to find Keigo's parents.

* * *

I found the pair standing next to the coffee machine, grimacing at the taste of the strong liquid in their cups.

"I'm so sorry," I bowed my head.

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Atobe smiles gently, waving his cup of coffee in the air. "We needed to wake up so we walked around the floor."

I follow the two as they slide into the elevator and punch the button for the ground floor. We stood in comfortable silence and I gripped the horizontal pole at waist level, not liking how the floor moved beneath my feet.

I had known the pair for what seemed like forever. Mr. Atobe, with his naturally silvery-grey hair looked like an older version of Keigo. I don't think I had ever seen him wearing anything other but a suit or tuxedo. He was poised and powerful, the true representation of a member of the Atobe family. He was only self-centered around people he was not close to, similar to Keigo, except he always opened up much faster. He towered over me, at least a foot taller, and he was a hardworker, inspiring Keigo to succeed at everything he did. Mrs. Atobe was the complete opposite, and yet oddly. She was always graceful, beautiful, and intelligent. Her dark purplish-grey hair was completely natural and she was known as the more talkative out of the two. She dominated on Japan's social scene, and was a considerable asset to the Atobe family's power and economic wealth. She could charm people like no other, and yet she was diligent as well. People often underestimated her, even if she was part of the Atobe family, and they were often taken aback when she revealed she had a degree from both Cambridge and Oxford and managed the family business when Mr. Atobe was unable to. To me, they had been a set of second parents. Their titles had never mattered.

The elevator stopped with a chime, opening to a floor with gentle, natural light flowing through the windows. The sun was setting and the sky was painted with a hue of warm colors. We passed by the check-in desk and the staff turned to look at the famous Atobe duo, with a relatively unknown girl following them. I internally groaned, knowing that the tabloids would not hesitate to dig up my past and figure out who I am.

The sliding doors opened to fresh air and I took a deep breath, savoring the warm weather and the Japanese sky. They duo stop at a metallic gray Ferrari parked in front of the building, and Mrs. Atobe slides her seat forward so I could slide in.

Huh, so maybe not a limo.

I plop down on the leather seat, a safe distance away from Keigo who was looking directly at the head of the seat in front of him. Mr. and Mrs. Atobe dump themselves on the seats, letting their cover of a powerful pair fall and their normal nature take over.

I settle into the 458italia dual-colored leather seats, letting Mr. Atobe zoom away.

Yeah, that's right. I speak car.

"Anyone hungry?" Mrs. Atobe smiles, turning around halfway in her seat, restrained by her seatbelt.

Keigo and I perk up at the same time and she smirks, "Well settle down. We have thirty minutes before we get home."

Mr. Atobe frowns, "I can make it twenty."

"Don't you dare speed," she warns. "Just because I let you get this car does not mean we are drag racing on the streets of Japan."

"Does that make it alright in England?" he teases.

She shoots him a glare that effectively makes him quiet, but the smile still adorned his face, breaking the normal seriousness that was characterized of the Atobe male. He was constantly working as the founder and CEO of Atobe family business, which dominated in Japan and had a decent influence in Europe. It was an unspoken agreement that Keigo would grow up to take over the company, and that forced Keigo to attempt to be the best at everything he did.

"Mrs. Atobe," I interrupt the silence in the sleek car, "is it alright if I am back home tomorrow by 9:00 AM? I'm running practice for the tennis team tomorrow."

"What happened to concentrating on swimming?" she asks. "I thought you quit tennis years ago."

"Yeah, I did," I tilt my head to stretch my neck. "But the swim coach wants me to practice with the guys tennis team to strengthen my arms because he knows I can play."

"That should be fine," Mr. Atobe replies. "The nurses just wanted us to keep an eye on you for tonight."

I could feel the oppressing guilt of not telling them take over and I fell silent, embarrassed.

"It's alright Jade," Mrs. Atobe says in her calming voice. "I wouldn't have told anyone either if I were you. There's too much at stake in my life in yours and you've been going through a lot."

I felt the relief practically lift off my shoulders.

"Thank you for understanding," I murmur, still slightly guilty.

That's why she was one of the most powerful women in Japan. With just a few words, she could twist your emotions into anything she favored.

I could see Keigo's emotions reflect across his face from the corner of my eye. He turned to look through the window, slouching in his seat. I rest my head against the comfortable headrest and close my eyes, letting the gentle purr of the engine lull me into a state of half-consciousness.

I stayed awake, but only semi-aware of the people a few feet away from me. The hushed voices and Keigo's unusually tentative tone surrounded me as the illustrious vehicle sped through the city and into the countryside to the Atobe mansion.

I felt the sports car slow to a stop and fluttered my eyes open, taking in the impressive metalwork of a gate to the mansion. The entrance swung open and Mr. Atobe parked the car in front of the mansion and threw a servant the keys. I fingered the handle of the door, wanting to stay inside the glorious machine a while longer. The other three obviously did not share my sentiments as they stepped out right away, forcing me to trail behind. The swirls of the gate shut behind the car and the butler drove the car away as I delicately stepped toward the looming mansion. No matter how many times I had visited the mansion, it would always be huge in my head. Another butler opened the door and I traced the Atobe family's footsteps through the door.

"Come with me Jade," Mrs. Atobe pulls me aside. "We'll get you dressed for dinner. You know how we like to be formal for dinner. Let me see if any of my old dresses would fit you."

I groan and she smiles, knowing how much I hated dressing up.

"It's just for about an hour," she encourages as I follow her into a separate hallway branching off from the main foyer. The elegant woman opens a door with an ornate handle.

Everything in the house is ornate, delicate, or expensive.

Walking across the plush, vanilla-colored carpet, she flings open a closet and ruffles through. "This is some of my old clothes that I thought I would save," she explains. "Stupid, I know, but I just had a feeling that I should have."

I smile and shake my head at her unexpected connections to her clothes, probably because every piece had something important of her past in it. Most people would consider it materialism, and normally I would too, but Mrs. Atobe was so above materialism. She kept the clothes as bookmarks to memories.

"Ah, this one. I remember wearing this the night I realized I was pregnant with Keigo," she fingers an old-school black low-turtleneck column dress that would hit mid-thigh. "You probably don't like turtlenecks, but this won't itch and the cloth ends right before your actual neck. You should wear this tonight."

She swoops down, below the rack of clothes and pulls out gold high-heels, "Know I absolutely know you hate heels, but these are easy to balance in." The strappy, elegant heels look gorgeous and like my worst nightmare at the same time. The dress was already a nightmare enough, as it probably reached to her knees when she wore it. She would look so graceful in it. I was honored to wear a dress that had meant so much to her, but I did not feel adequate to wear her metaphorical shoes, her actual shoes, and a piece of clothing that held an important memory.

"Thank you," I smile, taking the heels and the dress from her hands and the feeling of terror simply built. One simply does not say no to Mrs. Atobe.

"I'll be in the dining room in fifteen minutes. We may or may not have guests. I am not exactly sure. This is also your room for tonight," she calls, already stalking away towards the door. She shuts it with a click before I can reply and I sigh, pulling off my comfortable jacket, my skinny jeans, and my favorite combat boots. The black dress stuck to my curves and hugged my hips slightly, before ending mid-thigh. It was unbelievably classy and stylish at the same time, and if I had a good dress sense, I would have bought this if it was hanging on the rack in a store. Finger combing my hair, I sat down on a bench and gently secured the straps over my feet and buckled the thin strip that kept my feet from sliding out of the shoe and breaking into a million pieces.

Yeah, I'm dramatic. Sue me.

I look back at the bench next to the closet full of her clothes. It would probably be better if I folded my clothes and left them on the bench.

I creased my outfit into a neat stack and put my boots on top, leaving an easy marker for finding my clothes later. I stride past the four-posted bed with a thick comforter delicately embroidered, push open the door, and retrace my steps towards the foyer while feeling oddly comfortable in the cushioned gold heels.

I push my side bangs out of my eyes and nearly walk into Kabaji.

Kabaji?

I look around him and see the rest of Keigo's tennis team behind him. My eyes widen.

"Oh no," I murmur in English. "When she said guests, she couldn't possibly mean…." I trail off.

Oshitari's glasses gleam as he traces over my dress. I quickly step behind Kabaji and stalk back into the hallway I had come through, my hair sliding on my back and my feet delicately balancing in the three-inch gold heels.

"Nope," I frown, shaking my head. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not dealing with this right now."

"Ms. Klysen," a maid suddenly stops me in my tracks by coming out of a door right in front of me. She curtseys and speaks in an English accent, "It would be my pleasure to escort you to the dining room."

I grimace, my plan thwarted. "I don't suppose I could say I had a stomachache and sleep early."

She grins, "I am so sorry but Mr. Atobe warned me to not let you do that."

I quickly turn, exasperated, and emerge from the hallways yet again, but this time biting my cheek.

The tennis team still stands there, looking out of place in dress clothes with half of them gazing up at the high ceilings and decorations. The other half looked at me, probably wondering why I was here. I snorted as Jirou yawned and pulled at his tie, his shirt not even tucked in.

I follow the maid as she took us through the maze that was known as the Atobe mansion and we stop before a door.

"Ms. Klysen," a butler in front of the door bows. "I am to inform you that Mr. Atobe and Mrs. Atobe would like to eat with you, but believe that it is better for you to eat with the people your age. They deeply regret not telling you earlier and Mrs. Atobe says she wishes she could see you in the dress."

I smile at the last comment, even if internally I am frowning. I like to eat with the Atobe duo. They were amazing conversationalists, and never made me feel awkward by my younger age. They treated me like adults. They probably needed some privacy and to be away from people other than themselves because they had a long day though.

I nod my head at the butler and let the formal language flow over my tongue, "Send them my regards and wishes, and tell Mrs. Atobe that I will find her to display the dress before I retire for the night."

Oshitari whispers in English so that only I could hear, "I didn't think you were so well conversed in the snobby formalities."

I smile slightly at his surprise.

Meanwhile, the butler bows again and opens the door to the formal dining room, where Keigo was already perched at the head of the table. Typical.

My hips sway as I stride into the room as if I owned the place, letting my air of influence clash with Keigo's. The rest of the team pulled out their chairs and sat on the sides of the table as the previous butler pulled out a chair at the opposing head of the table, just for me.

I didn't like the preferential treatment, even if I was trying to show up Keigo.

I smile and mumble my gratitude before he walks away.

"You look good," Keigo says in Japanese, looking down and not bothering to stare me in the eye. I was not even sure if he was referring to me. He was treading on thin ice with the Japanese, and he knew it.

"I know," I shoot back matter-of-factly, my shoulders back and back straight, gazing at his face before sweeping my eyes along the sides of the table.

I lingered on a guy with chin-length, straight, brownish hair. He smiled back and introduced himself in Japanese, "I am Taki. I don't believe we have met yet, though it appears that everyone else here has met you."

"Interesting," I noted out loud. "You're quite perceptive."

I didn't bother to say my name back.

"I wasn't sure if we were having a formal team meeting over dinner," Keigo shrugs as malicious intent flickers over his face. "But it should keep me from caring over your every single move," he finishes with a slight snarl.

The rest of the team raises their eyebrows, surprised at the lack of our easy banter that occurred last time they saw Keigo and I talking.

"Well at least I have people to care about other than one person that I have known for forever," I retort back, my mouth in a straight line as the maids serve us with what smells like a cream of mushroom soup.

I easily pick the soup spoon from the flatware on the sides of the plate and cross one of my legs over the other, watching in amusement as a few of the tennis players tried to pick between the various spoons. In their defense, I would not have known either had my father insisted that I know how to eat formally.

On my left, Shishido held up three spoons to the chandelier above the table, comparing sizes.

I giggled, "It's the one on the right."

"Thanks," he mumbled, dropping the other spoons and dunking the third one into his soup.

I have to say I was surprised that most of them knew which utensil to use, but then I remembered Keigo saying that he went to a school where almost everyone was rich and had influential parents. So maybe it wasn't so surprising.

I couldn't lie and say that I found Shishido's reaction as a breath of fresh air and charming in its own way.

"You know," Keigo says threateningly and yet tinged with a bit of emotion, "it's your behavior like this that makes me wish that you would just be a normal person and let people look after you."

I huff and set my spoon down, eyes narrowed, "Do I have to remind you? I am not your pet. Maybe it is time that you realize that we are equal."

I could nearly feel the electricity cackling between us, separated by several feet of wood and several tennis players that looked down awkwardly at their soup.

"Well," he pauses and struggles to find words. "Well you're an ugly face."

I nearly spit out a mouthful of soup at his attempt of a jab and force myself to swallow, "Says the one with purplish gray hair."

He frowns, "You think my mother's hair is elegant and mine is the same color."

"Are you your mother? Are you trying to tell me you are a girl? Maybe I should call you Kei-chan."

He points at me with his spoon, "Why are you so frustrating?"

I smile innocently back and bat my eyelashes, "Because, and I quote, '"I am an ugly face.'"

He throws his hands up in the air, "Yeah, well maybe you and your ugly face need to see that sometimes people care, and that doesn't mean that you're not equal. It just means that people are there for you."

I could hear his silent, slightly reluctant, words hidden behind the words he said aloud. _I'm sorry, and I just did that because I care._

"Maybe it's slightly oppressing, you know? You, my brother, my grandmother, the tabloids. I just need to make my own decisions sometimes, and living by myself has let me do that." _I know you are, but I need you to understand._

"Fine, but don't come running back when you're in trouble," he snaps, letting his cold demeanor only show in his voice while his face remains slack and eyes full of sentiment. _I think I do understand, and I'll be here if you need me._

"Fine," I wrinkle my nose. _I know._

"Fine." _You suck at ending conversations sometimes._

"Good." _Oh please, how would you end a conversation like this?_

"Good." _I'm going to ignore that._

"Well," Oshitari drawls. "Not that I don't like to see endearing arguments and Klysen-san in a dress, but why are we here?"

I think I'll ignore his comment about me in a dress. The butler clears the soup bowls and skims the table with a plate of stuffed chicken. Picking up a fork, I attack the creamy spinach stuffing inside the animal protein and the asparagus next to the piece of meat.

"Team meeting," he shrugs. "We'll talk about it after the food. I didn't originally plan for her to be here."

"I'm right here," I remind Keigo, protesting. "Besides, I am staying over for the night. You're not getting rid of me," I wave my fork, teasing, while raising my glass to my mouth.

"Friends with benefits?" Oshitari slides his glasses up his nose. "I think I read about that in my latest novel."

I start coughing, spluttering water, and I attempt to cover my lack of grace with a napkin. Shishido gets up and pats my back awkwardly, trying to stop my coughing while Keigo yells at Oshitari for that "unruly and disgusting comment."

"Thanks," I finally gasp, my eyes watering, to Shishido, looking up at him with his long hair partially tied back. He nods and plops back on to his seat.

Mukahi shoots a meaningful look to Shishido, one that I couldn't descipher.

Chotorou interrupts, his messy gray hair and doleful brown eyes looking at his captain. "Are we going to talk about lineups for the regional tournament?"

"Yes," Keigo agrees

My eyebrows furrow as I swallow, "Haven't you just finished the pre-district tournament? The prefectural tournament should be your foremost concern, not regional."

Mukahi jumps in, "Most of us are not playing until regionals. We have the pre-regulars cover for us until we get there."

I shake my head, "And what if a dark horse team comes and blows you guys away?"

"It won't happen," Oshitari replies. "The likelihood is too low."

"Usu," Kabaji nods.

I don't bother to respond and put a piece of asparagus in my mouth and chew, thinking when someone beat them, that they would be devastated.

"But on to lighter matters," Keigo dismisses my concern, "I heard from a little bird that two dimwits from Rikkaidai thought you were pregnant today."

Forks clatter against plates in shock. Choruses of "you're pregnant?!" and "oh my god" echo around the formal dining room.

I close my eyes in annoyance, knowing Keigo did that to irritate me and make me amused at the same time. Unfortunately, it was mainly the former.

"Yes, well, I am a bit close to those two dimwits. Niou misinterpreted when he heard the word 'pregnant' in a joke from Marui. And Akaya…well Akaya may or may not have questioned me for five minutes about the identity of the father." _I so hate you for bringing that up, Keigo._

"How amusing," Keigo grins. _Laugh, it's funny._

"And no," I answer the unvoiced question, "I am not pregnant and nor was I suspected to ever be."

Shishido snaps at his team members, "And why would it matter if she was?"

I chuckle at his reaction while I clean my plate of the remaining bit of food. The butler lifts the empty plate and replaces it with a piece of decadent cheesecake. Jirou visibly brightens out of his stupor at the sight of dessert.

I lift my spoon and shove a generous bit into my mouth, letting the sweet creaminess loiter on my tongue. I glance up to see Keigo raising an eyebrow at me.

"You're about to ask me if I should really be eating this, shouldn't you?" I ask, about to take another bite.

"Well, yeah. Don't you have districts next weekend?"

I shrug, "Don't I lose more calories than two of you guys put together in one practice?"

"Touché," he grins. "At least you don't complain about how fat you will get when you eat. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that."

"If I ever say that, punch me," I reply.

"I'll hold you accountable to that statement."

I scrape my spoon across the plate to get the last bits of the cheesecake and I lick the crumbs off before pushing my chair back.

"Well, if you excuse me, I'm afraid I have had a very long day and I need to find Mrs. Atobe."

"Save the formal language Sapphire, just because we're wearing fancy clothes doesn't mean you need to act out of place like these idiots" Keigo twists his mouth while gesturing to the teammates.

They protest as I step out of the room, a slight smile on my face. He had called me Sapphire again. So, I guess everything really was okay.

* * *

I twirl in front of Mrs. Atobe as she nods in approval, "I must say, it looks amazing on you. I think you should keep the dress and the shoes."

"Oh no, I couldn't. It means too much to you," I say, objecting.

"Yes, it does. But you look quite good in it," she insists.

"No," I repeat firmly. "I won't take this memory from you."

She smiles, "I didn't think you realized that I attached memories to certain clothes. You are very perceptive, you know," she rubs my shoulder like my mom used to. Suddenly, I was at a loss for words. "Maybe you should go to sleep Jade, you've had a long day. There's a door to a bathroom in your room, and it should be stocked with a toothbrush and other necessary items. I trust you can find your way there, yes?"

I nod, "Thank you so much Mrs. Atobe. I am very grateful."

"Nonsense," she waves her hand dismissively. "You're always welcome here and I know you know that."

I smile at her, before leaving the main foyer that I had found her in and entering the hallway to my temporary room. I quickly stripped and slid on the shorts and t-shirt on the bench next to the closet and hung up the beautiful dress that meant so much to Mrs. Atobe. The shoes took their rightful place on the rack beneath the gorgeous fabrics and I slid the door closed. Going to the bathroom, I did whatever was necessary to make myself feel clean before pulling the plush embroidered covers back and collapsing into a deep slumber.

* * *

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	11. The Sadistic Streak

**Hi! I'm sorry that it took so long but I rewrote this chapter a couple of times to get everything right! Please read and review!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own PoT, or Rolls Royce, or any of the companies mentioned.**

* * *

A slimy tongue was licking my face.

_A slimy tongue was licking my face._

My eyes fluttered open and an Afghan Hound was wagging its tail above me, looking quite pleased with itself.

"Beat!" I exclaimed, petting its head. "It's been so long!"

"Yeah, I swear Beat likes you more than he likes me," Keigo drawled.

I sat up and glanced at him, hands in his pockets of his silk purple pajamas, leaning against a post of the bed.

"Well yeah, I gave Beat to you," I shrug, covering up a smile at what he was wearing. "Doesn't that mean Beat has known me longer?"

He rolls his eyes, "He lives with me. Anyways, rise and shine. You said you had to be at the pool soon, right?"

My eyes widen with realization before I throw myself out of bed and run to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Keigo laughs and calls, "Will you calm down? You can skip breakfast because I know you're not going to eat before practice."

"No!" I attempt to yell back with toothpaste in my mouth. I never ate before practice; it made my stomach hurt and made me feel like throwing up.

"Why are you running practice anyways?" he says, now leaning against the door to the bathroom.

I spit out the paste and rinse my mouth out. "Yukimura may or may not be in the hospital for an unknown reason and Sanada doesn't know yet. So I'm subbing in for Yukimura until Sanada realizes what's going on."

"Is he alright?"

"The doctors aren't sure."

"Does he realize you're going to kill the team?"

I turn around to look at him and grin, "Of course not. What's the fun in that?"

He laughs, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I hope they are ready for a whole different side of you."

I shoot him a sadistic smirk back while I twist my hair into a ponytail and sweep back my side-bangs.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to drop me off?" I ask worriedly, getting the feeling that I was disturbing the Atobe duo's sleep.

"Don't be silly," Mrs. Atobe smiles.

"We insist," Mr. Atobe nods while sliding into a Rolls Royce. "We had work in the area anyways."

"Just get in," Keigo, who was smartly dressed in dark jeans and a casual blazer, pushes me into the car.

I slide over to the window, behind Mr. Atobe, and buckle up. Two butlers pull open the enormous gate and Mr. Atobe zooms off on the isolated road, letting the engine purr.

"Ah," Mrs. Atobe says aloud. "Jade, I forgot to tell you that it would be advisable for you not to look in the tabloids."

"They may or may not be questioning who you are in relation to us," Mr. Atobe adds.

Oh, I so called it.

"It's not like I read them anyways," I smile easily back at the duo.

"Go to sleep," Mr. Keigo changes topics. "You probably still haven't fully recovered from the time zone shock from moving here, and you exercise too much to not be sleeping more than nine hours a night."

I don't say anything, complying. I tilt my head up and close my eyes, reveling in the luxurious seating in the luxurious car.

* * *

I felt a gentle shake of my shoulder and I open my eyes and yawn.

I blink rapidly to get my eyes into focus and Keigo smiles slightly, teasing, "Well that was attractive."

"Oh shut up," I groan back.

"We're at your flat. Go on in and get your swimming stuff and we'll drive you to the pool," Mrs. Atobe encourages.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes, yes, we're sure," Mr. Atobe waves away my doubt.

I couldn't help but feel like I was troubling them. I slide out of the car and bound up the sidewalk to the door before kicking the door open after unlocking it. I shut it with a bang behind me and scoop up my swim bag that I had discarded by the door two days earlier and run into the bathroom, stripping and pulling on the dry swimsuit and my black drag suit on top. I make sure the bag has plenty of extra goggles and caps because the other tennis players would need them. I pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and stuff extra clothes into my swim bag just in case while checking if my brother's racket was still in the bag. As a last thought, I throw a roll of athletic tape into the bag for my shoulders as I pull on running shoes. I open the door to the flat again and lock it before slipping the key into my swim bag.

Efficiency is the name of the game. Most work in least time possible.

I walked down the sidewalk that I had ran up a few minutes earlier. Throwing open the door to the expensive car, I plop on to the lavish seat before closing the door gently.

"Can you tape my shoulders later?" I ask Keigo while buckling myself in.

"Yeah, whatever," he agrees as Mr. Atobe zooms off in the direction of the school.

"Jade," Mrs. Keigo turns in her seat. "You have a swim meet next weekend right? I would love to come but I believe we can't. Keigo should be able to though."

"It's alright," I smile back. "I know you're busy and it's fine."

"Well, we still wish we could come," Mr. Atobe's gruff voice cuts in. "But it's ok, we'll watch you at prefecturals and nationals."

"If I get that far," I add to his sentence.

All three of the Atobe family simultaneously burst into laughter.

With a chuckle, Mr. Atobe turns left before saying, "You still think you're not that good. Sometimes you need to have a little pride in yourself."

I duck my head down in embarrassment.

"We're at Rikkaidai, Jade," Mrs. Atobe says. "Go with her Keigo."

He wordlessly exits the Rolls Royce Ghost as I do the same on the left side, shutting the door with a click. I straighten my back to see a Niou with wide eyes staring at the car. I smile at him before pushing Keigo towards the direction of the school gate.

"Come on, I'm not going to be late. I have to get out a net from the supply closet too."

He groans before switching to German, "Do I have to?"

"You said you'd tape my shoulders, you lazy bum."

He rolls his eyes before following me through the gate and towards the swimming pool, leaving Niou to admire the car.

"You know," Keigo utters quietly, "you really should have gone to Hyotei. You would have had an easier life there."

"But my grandmother's old flat is here and we didn't have time to buy more property here."

"You really think my parents would let you come to Japan without a place to stay? You could have just stayed with us. Have you even seen the size of our house?" he protests.

"Don't you mean mansion?"

"Exactly."

I pause at the small shed near the swimming pool to pull out an extra tennis net as Keigo continues to try to convince me to go to Hyotei.

"Yeah, sure, I would have had it easier, but I have to admit I am having fun here," I reply, handing him the net.

He cradled the net in his hands as I shut the door and continued towards the small pool, still arguing.

"No one takes swimming seriously here. Plus, you would have had me to make your life easier," he tries to change my mind.

"Don't you mean harder?"

He huffs, annoyed, before dropping the net by the poolside. I check that the poles at the midway point of the pool are still intact and could be used. I was exactly on time for practice according to the hour clock by the poolside, which only marked what part of the hour it was and not the time of day. Everyone else was around the poolside, chatting quietly. Niou runs to the deck of the pool-his bag bouncing against his body-panting and saying something about a Rolls Royce. My heart pounds in my chest; the doubt that I had tried to push out of my head in the car ride sweeps over me.

I toss a roll of athletic tape at Keigo and turn around, knowing that he caught it easily. Crossing my arms and grasping the edge of my shirt, I effortlessly pull it over my head, exposing my barely clad back for the world to see.

"Your strap is in the way," Keigo says, standing behind me and tossing the hair off my neck.

I slip it down, exposing my shoulder while pulling up the front of my swim suit to cover my chest.

Keigo pauses, looking down at my right shoulder, and then clears his throat. He seemed more hesitant than usual. He pulls a piece against the bottom of my deltoid and stretches it, wrapping it around the back of my shoulder, and then continues to pull thick pieces around the front, and in line with my rotator cuff.

"How does that feel?" he asks. I wriggle my shoulder to find it well stabilized.

"Not bad," I comment, slipping up my right shoulder strap and throwing the left one off my shoulder.

His light touch and fast fingers are comforting as it gives better support to my shoulder.

"AHH!" I hear a yell and the skid of sneakers slowing to a stop against pavement. "STOP HARASSING JADE-SENPAI!"

I turn my head partially to see Akaya flapping his arms and shouting.

"You're late!" I call out to him.

"How can you stand these people?" Keigo murmurs in German, his hands smoothing down a piece of tape.

I giggle at the disgruntled expression that I knew was on his face. But, on the inside, my social anxiety was pressing the same question. It was usually easy to block it away after my therapist helped me before I left, but today it seemed so much worse. The bad feeling in the pit of my stomach ate away at me, as I could feel everyone judge me. After over a week with the Rikkaidai team, the freezing feeling that I thought I had finally shaken off returned, worse than ever. Swimming usually helped me calm down, which is why I never missed a day in the pool, but Coach Dan wanted me to take a break. I guess he didn't understand.

"All done," he announces, stepping back. Whirling around, I snatch my shirt off his shoulder and pull it back on swiftly, trying to fight the feeling of trying to shrink.

"Not that I'm against seeing people strip," Niou drawls, "but what are we doing that requires you to tape your shoulder?"

Keigo and grins at me, maliciously. "That's my cue to leave," Keigo smirks in English. "Give them hell for me."

"Hell to infinity and back," I promise him, fake-smiling. His face changes, catching my discomfort.

He pulls my shoulders towards him and presses his lips against my temple. I freeze and don't say anything as he pulls away. "I'll call you later," he promises, eyes softer than usual, and he stalks off towards the front of the school.

I'm shocked to silence as I try to figure out what just happened. He must have done that as a friendly gesture. That was the only explanation. It was not calculated like his normal moves though, as it only amplifies the lowkey terror boiling away inside of me. I pull on my coldest expression and survey the people in front of me, never feeling more alone in a group of people. Even though I wanted to tuck my tail between my legs and bound off, I made a promise to Yukimura.

* * *

He kissed her. He _kissed_ her. Not on the mouth, but still. What happened to just being friends? She looked just as shocked as I felt. Something in the pit of my stomach snarled and I curled my hands into a fist, not wanting to give away my thoughts. I brush my reddish-pink hair out of my eyes.

Her face changes, exuding a cold expression of stone. Almost like Sanada's.

* * *

"Take your shirts off," I command in Japanese. "I saw Yukimura yesterday evening before leaving the hospital and I'm stepping in just for today because Yukimura didn't know how to tell you that he might be in the hospital for a while. Sanada will run the rest of the practices, but I'm running today's. Be glad that you only have a day with me running practice."

They tennis regulars stare back at me, eyes unsure. Never had I wanted to avoid social confrontation more.

"Did you not hear me?" I bark at them, the power I was emitting and the anxiety in my stomach twisting together, battling. "Take your shirts off. I'm a swimmer, I'm used to seeing people with their shirts off. It means nothing," I add, soothing their moral reason to refuse.

Niou, both unexpectedly and expectedly, was the first to comply. Pulling his shirt off, he looked slightly pleased with himself. Then Akaya, Yagyuu, Marui, Jackal followed his example.

"I see no reason for why this is necessary," Sanada challenges.

"Take your shirt off Genichirou," Yanagi advises before pulling off his own. "We're getting in the pool and your shirt will just slow you down."

"Let me see how good you are in the water," I say aloud. "You have 500 yards of freestyle, and going down to the wall on the other side and back is a 50. So ten laps. I'm feeling generous, so your time limit is ten minutes. If you don't make it, there will be a punishment."

Ten minutes would be extremely easy if they were adapted to the water, but they weren't. It would be tough for them to make. I toss goggles and caps towards them, knowing that they probably didn't have their own since they were tennis players. I struggle to remain patient with the feeling inside of me as the social anxiety in me chanted, beating at the sides of my head. I needed to jump into the pool. I needed the water. I needed the feeling of flying.

"Everyone wears goggles and a cap. Jackal, you can just wear goggles," I say, nodding toward the Brazilian. "Stretch the cap over your head and stuff as much of your hair as you can inside."

I point to the manual swimming pace clock with a rotating second hand. "Dive in and get started when the minute hand points to the ten and the second hand points to the 60. Good luck," I add.

The regulars stare back at me, still unsure if they should panic and run for their lives yet. Hint hint, they probably should. But that would make me happy and it would break my promise to Yukimura. I just couldn't win today.

"No, not everyone can be in one lane," I say, feeling a bit unnerved with them looking back at me. "Yes, we'll do tennis stuff later. This is warm-up."

It was like talking to statues. Is this how Yukimura normally felt?

"Um," Akaya scratched his head. "I'm pretty sure we all know how to swim, but this seems so irrelevant."

Before I can open my mouth, Yanagi replies, "The water puts more pressure on our diaphragm, making us spend more energy to make our heart and lungs to keep working. We're conditioning."

"Exactly," I agree, glad that Yanagi believed in me slightly, otherwise I felt like shrinking down to a miniscule size so no one could look at me. Regardless, I still felt like disappearing. I step out of my clothes, exposing my black dragsuit on top of my normal swim suit, and I pull my navy blue swim cap and goggles on to my head with practiced ease. Stuffing my clothes into my swim bag, I turn around to find the rest of the regulars looking at me.

"What?" I squawk at them, truly perturbed and my insides begging for the water to wash away my social anxiety that I had hoped would never return.

"Um, well I never thought I would say this," Niou runs his hand over his hair in a swim cap, "but you're barely wearing anything."

I close my eyes in annoyance, wishing that everyone could just dissipate with a flash of smoke like in movies and I could suddenly be on my couch in my flat, "Yes Niou, this is what competitive swim wear looks like. You're making a bigger deal of this than you should. Surely you've seen girls walk around in bikinis."

On the inside, I shook, realizing that they weren't used to the skin of swimsuits for other reasons than strolling around on the beach. How could I make such an obvious mistake? _How could I be so ignorant?_

They agreed, mumbling that they had seen girls in bikinis, or at least all of them but Sanada had.

"Hurry up and get in the water!" I yell at them, seeing the clock ten seconds from the 10 hand. The freedom of my inner turmoil was nigh.

I jump on to the block and throwing my arms back, I launch myself over the chlorinated water. The impact of my body against the water kept me shivering as the cool waves washed over my torso. The exhilarating feeling swept through me as I did a quick flipturn at the opposite side. Looking up, I could see the regulars tentatively jumping in and swimming decent freestyles.

Frowning, I put my head back down and kept moving through the water, my shoulders feeling better than they had all week. The one day of a break that I had really did wonders, not mentally but physically. The social anxiety was slowly eroded away like the gentle waves in the pool, even though it still existed.

I had come to terms with it before I had left, knowing that it would never truly leave. It hadn't been an issue since the plane ride to Japan, but right now it had flattened me as if it was a train. Memories of the past week flash in my head; meeting the team in front of Coach Dan, eating with Hyotei in both Atobe's mansion and in the café with a few Rikkaidai players, and so much more….where had my previous anxiety gone? Where was my fear of judgment until now?

The unsure feeling, unsteady resolve, and unsettled judgment of myself had never actually vanished, nagging away at a corner of my mind. Is there a reason it was so strong today?

Whatever, did it actually matter? Did anything matter?

Man, the existentialism is strong in this one.

Thoughts flashed across my mind as I took it out on the water, letting the cool waves wash over my heated head. A sharp whistle pierced my thoughts and I swam to the nearest wall and look up.

A half-amused man in an athletic jacket drops a whistle from his lips and raises his eyebrows at me.

Well, I'm in trouble.

I cough, trying to make up an excuse, "Coach Dan? What are you doing here?"

"Well hello to you too. I don't remember saying that you should be in the water, did I?" he cocks his head, slightly smiling and ignoring my question.

"Um, well, I just wanted to swim?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly, "I should be mad at you, but I can't feel mad because I was like you. I needed swimming everyday to keep me in check."

My shoulders relax, realizing I've been let off the hook, "So, this is okay?"

"Only if you swim breaststroke for the rest of practice."

My shoulders tense up again, "You're joking, right?"

He smiles, "Does it look like I'm joking?"

As much as I wanted to say yes, I knew better than to do so, "But…but…" I fake stutter while throwing my hands up as I kick my feet to stay afloat, "I have six minutes to do a 200."

He rolls his eyes again, this time at my dramatic protest, knowing that it was easy even for me to do the breaststroke in six minutes. "If you can't do that, you have fifteen laps of lunges tomorrow. And I was here to check on the status of the pool. It may need more chlorine," he finally answers the prior question. "Oh, and you get a punishment later. I have to go visit another school and talk to the swim coach regarding the district meet, so you have to come with me tomorrow. Come to the pool in the morning like usual." He continues talking as I gaze off, not exactly listening to him. "Anyways," he finishes, "continue and meet me at the normal time."

I internally moan, thinking of the time that was wasted, leaving only two minutes and forty seconds to finish. I growl to myself before pushing myself off the wall and going into the best breaststroke I was capable of, which wasn't a very good breaststroke. The choppy strokes barely pushed me through the water as I struggled to move at my normal pace. I gasp, feeling like I was going to die from both the ridiculous stroke and the punishment I was going to give the tennis players for not making the interval. Soon, even I wouldn't make the interval.

Oh, the shame.

I start to feel the burn in my shoulders as I pull at the water with my arms and kick my feet in an erratic circle, feeling somewhat like a dehydrated person in the desert searching for water on hands and knees. I let the water glide over me, dragging me down as I push off the walls, trying to extend as far as possible before starting the horrid stroke.

Horrid isn't really the right word for it. Maybe loathsome.

* * *

I pull through the water, feeling awkward. Swimming was clearly not my thing. I looked up at the rest of the team and they too were more or less swimming at the same pace that I was. Save for one girl beating us by several laps, and maybe Sanada, we all were unaccustomed to the water.

And that girl looked like she was flying. She was doing a different stroke than us and was still beating us. Her head dipped in and out of the water and her legs twisted into an odd kick that propelled her forward.

The creature at the bottom of my stomach was pacified at the sight of Klysen dipping in and out of the water, even though it still shook slightly at the thought of what Atobe had done to her earlier.

For some reason, I couldn't help but trust her, even though she had never ran our practice before. I just knew that she somehow knew what she was doing.

* * *

Panting, I snap from a gliding streamline to an awkward fold of arms and legs and back to streamline, feeling like a caterpillar. My concentration wipes away my anxiety, focused solely on the stroke that seems to hold my death sentence.

I push off the wall, extending my body to the final twenty-five yards. My freedom was so close that I could taste it. I pull at the water with my hands and snap my legs together, letting my head bob up and down with each stroke to complete the breaststroke.

It was impossible to look good while doing this stroke. It was useless and the slowest stroke possible. I snarl underwater, frustrated at the time that was ticking away. I pass under the flags marking the five yards from the wall while I glide in my streamline. My skin feels hot as I pant, extending my arms towards the walls. I grasp the lifeline of a wall while puffing. I had finished with only ten seconds to spare. I watch the tennis players as they take easy strokes around the pool, failing to touch before the time limit.

I exhale, before lifting myself out of the pool by the medal rod attached to the bottom of the diving block for backstrokers. I plop myself down on the top of the block with a squelch and I wrap my arms around my knees. Water drips from my face down to the platform I was sitting on as the swimmers-come-tennis-players milled around in the pool.

Sanada finishes first, gasping as he gripped the wall of the pool and glancing at the clock that signified his doom.

"Sorry," I half-smiled. "You didn't make it. Until everyone else finishes, you can do squats."

He grunts while crawling out of the pool and starts doing his exercise. Normally, the one who finished last would do the most, but I always favored discipline for not making the intervals. Therefore I gave the most to the one closest to making the interval so they would get stronger. Yanagi finishes next with everyone else trailing behind. I motion for them to join Sanada and they groan while they start to do squats. I whip off my cap and goggles and parade in front of them, feeling almost like a military sergeant in front of his soldiers. I wonder if they doubted themselves as much as I do. I swallow down the shrinking doubt and anxiety and throw my shoulders back.

"Now," I declare. "You guys didn't make the time. Normally, the squats wouldn't really affect you, but you swam and _now_ you're doing squats." I paste a smirk on my face and tuck a few strands of hair back into my bun. Swimming was tough on the muscles, so therefore their legs should be a bit stiff. I traced my eyes up and down their legs, watching them pant and grunt. Satisfied with their amount of squats, I clap, gaining their attention. "You'll be doing burpees next. This is what they look like."

I drop to the ground on my hands and feet, kick out my legs to pushup position, do a pushup, pull my feet back up to the position I dropped to the ground in, and then jumped up with my arms extended towards the sky, one hand on top of the other in a streamline. "You'll do five minutes worth of burpees. If anyone messes up, we'll add thirty seconds."

With my hands on my hips, I pull myself to a full height and yell "Begin!" while checking the clock to note when they began.

"Ne, Jade," Akaya whines while jumping up. "My legs hurt."

"That's kind of the idea Akaya."

"I'm your favorite, aren't I?" Niou tries to haggle as he drops into pushup position. "You can cut back a little bit for just me, right?"

I pause right in front of him, remembering how I said I would give him laps if I could at the tennis tournament. If I recalled correctly, Sanada had given him laps for my comment that poked fun at Sanada's uptight nature. A grin unfurls across my face.

"Normally, I would say you're not my favorite, because you're not," my eyes light up sadistically while talking slowly. "But you're right. I do owe you specifically a favor, don't I?" I crouch down as he does a pushup as his eyes light up with the hope of possible freedom. "So Niou, you have laps of lunges around the pool until everyone finishes, and then you finish the rest of your burpees."

The light in his eyes instantly dies as he growls at me, "That's not exactly what I had in mind."

I smile innocently back, "Do you want more laps? Because I can definitely make that happen."

And in a flash, him and his scowl are doing lunges around the pool. I bite my lip to hold back a giggle.

I turn back to the tennis players, who were trying to keep doing burpees while their legs shook. "Anyone else want special treatment?" I asked, the smirk returning.

Marui, Kirihara, and Jackal frantically shake their heads indicating otherwise while Sanada, Yanagi, and Yagyuu give a single, resounding, "No!" Marui massaged his thighs before he transitioned into another pushup, feeling the burn in his legs. I take a glimpse at the clock that marked that they had three minutes left.

"You're doing great!" I encourage. "Akaya, do the pushup properly or I'll start adding time."

He moans and fixes his pushups, lowering himself the ground properly instead of keeping his butt up in the air. Even Jackal was panting and wiping sweat off his brow. I glanced back at Marui, checking that he wasn't too tired to keep going. During practice last week, he had said something about a stamina issue, which is why he must have eaten that cake yesterday before his match. He was breathing heavily and slowing down. Should I tell him to go faster, or should I let him be because he was trying?

The second was probably better; he'd just be burned out by the end of practice if I took the other option. His goggles and cap covered up his bright red hair and his head bobbed up and down with every pushup transitioned into a leap into the air.

The Rikkaidai tennis players looked different, vulnerable. _Human._ They hadn't been fazed at all during their tennis matches yesterday, save for a few instances. They barely sweated and gave an effort to win. This must be what they look like when they truly struggle. To see the strong tennis players groaning and panting while trying to complete their exercises was truly different than their normal shield of invincibility.

I pause momentarily from watching the tennis players to look at the clock, and just in time too. "Stop!" I yell.

"Oh thank goodness," Jackal muttered. Sanada grunts in agreement, having done the most exercises out of everyone in the group.

"Niou!" I yell out to the Trickster, who was slowly circling the pool while doing lunges with his hands on his hips. I motion for him to hurry up join the group and he snaps up and moves into a leisurely jog; he shake his legs to soothe his thighs, which should be aching by now. When he gets close enough, I push his shoulder down and say "You have four minutes of burpees left. Do them now."

He doesn't bother to retort and just sighs before dropping to his hands to begin his burpees.

"Everyone else, grab that net at the side of the pool and put it on the poles at the halfway mark. Tell me when you're finished."

I pull my cap and goggles back on and dive back into the pool, wanting to soar across the surface.

* * *

She looked like she was flying across the water as she barely splashed, elegantly doing strokes of butterfly. Her arms swept from by the side of her body to in front of her as she kicked not unlike a dolphin. I force myself to tear my eyes away from her graceful form and throw one side of the net towards the opposite side of the pool. Yagyuu attaches the net to the pole next to me and slides it down to the surface of the water while Jackal scoops up the opposite side at does the same. Within a few minutes, the net was ready. I rub at my thighs, feeling drained already.

Jade dips underneath the net effortlessly, not even breaking her stroke before rising to the surface on the other side of the net. She stops and looks towards the net.

"Good work," she declares while lifting her goggles off her eyes. She wasn't even panting or tired. "Everyone grab their rackets. We're going to play water tennis."

* * *

"The rules are simple," I explain. "Everyone plays at the same time. We'll have two balls in play and Marui, Sanada, Yagyuu, and I will be on one side while Yanagi, Akaya, Jackal, and Niou are on the other. If the ball touches the bottom of the pool, it's a point for the other team. There is no out of bounds but all balls must stay within the pool. The person closest to the ball will have five crunches as punishment."

"This will be easy!" Akaya laughs with relief.

"Don't be so sure," Yanagi says, calculating, "The water is difficult to move in, and therefore it will be hard to even hit the balls out of the water."

"Exactly," I agree, jumping back into the water with two balls and a racket in hand. The rest follow while Sanada slides in from a sitting position.

Lame.

I kick my legs towards the deep end that my team would be on. "Is everyone ready?"

They groan in response, trying to kick with their legs and stay afloat.

I toss the first ball into the air and serve. The ball flies over the net and I let the second ball join it as Jackal treads water and attempts to hit the first back. He barely succeeds as it nearly results in a cord ball and Marui slams it back towards the other side.

Before long, the tennis players are struggling to just return the ball as the number of crunches begins to pile up. I have a fair amount of crunches as well and the tennis players almost seem like dolphins, diving after balls sinking to the bottom of the pool and trying to return them over the net. My anxiety felt long gone as I bobbed along, diving into the water and hitting balls.

* * *

Never had I thought that it was possible to torture someone in so many different ways. However, Klysen seemed skilled in doing just that. For almost an hour, we had played her game of water tennis, struggling against the water to return neon-green balls that were quickly becoming the bane of my existence. I was exhausted and I probably had the most crunches out of anyone to complete.

I collapse on to my back, taking a quick rest from the seventy-five crunches I had left. Klysen obviously had finished first, with a mere fifty crunches while everyone else had over a hundred.

She was a decent tennis player, but she was so good in the water that she could easily reach the ball before it hit the bottom of the pool while the rest of the players struggled, unaccustomed to the resistance.

I tucked my hands behind my head before starting the crunches again.

"See you guys tomorrow at school," Klysen calls out while waving and picking up her swim bag. "Finish the rest of your crunches, put up the net, and go home and get some rest. Sanada is taking over from tomorrow."

The rest of the players and I wave back while Akaya mutters, "Well, as soon as we leave we can stop the crunches."

"Finish your crunches," Sanada orders. "She ran practice so follow her instructions."

Sanada had been oddly quiet during practice, more so than usual. We were all worried about Yukimura but it seems like the responsibility for the team had hit him hard. Even if Yukimura would be back within a couple of days, Sanada had been Yukimura's right-hand man for two years and they had played tennis together even before that. Anyone would be affected by the lack of Yukimura's presence in his place.

Sanada struggles to his feet and begins to disassemble the net and Yanagi soon does the same on the other side after finishing the crunches. I huffed with every crunch, feeling so physically drained that I could sleep for days. The squats and burpees earlier wouldn't have felt bad had we not swam before that. I would forever have respect for swimmers as they seemed to participate in a hellish sport that took a different kind of strength than tennis did.

The rest of the team grabs their bag and pulls on a shirt and shorts before grumbling about the crunches and the burpees and squats and the water tennis as I remain on the pavement, finishing.

"I'll wait for you," Niou says, sitting down next to me as I finished my two-hundredth crunch with only twenty-five to go.

I pant back, "Thanks," as I rub my stomach while doing the crunches. I was exhausted and wanted to sleep.

"I'm hungry," Niou declared. "You want to go out to eat?"

"Yeah, can we?" Kirihara cuts in, sitting down as well.

"No way," I make a face. "I'm too tired."

"Yeah, your girlfriend was tough on us," Niou agrees.

I scrunch my eyelids together while protesting, "Not my girlfriend, Niou. How many times do we have to have this conversation?"

"If you don't want her," Yanagi butts in, "I'll have her."

The rest of the team pauses before turning to look at Yanagi Renji, the cold, calculating monster who never opened his eyes; the Datamaster. The creature in my stomach rumbles in irritation.

"I was joking," he says with a twisted smile and a shrug, calming the creature in me. "Besides, Marui probably wouldn't be happy if I was serious."

Niou's nose twitches, "Don't do that. It's scary."

"I'd be fine," I retort, not sure if I was lying or not.

Yagyuu clutches the cap and goggles in his hands while nodding, "That was weird. Klysen-chan forgot to take her caps and goggles from us."

Jackal freezes, "Don't tell me that she plans to give us more practices like that."

Akaya and Niou groan at the thought as Sanada interrupts, "Don't be silly. I'm running practice until Yukimura comes back, and that means we're back on the tennis courts."

A collective sigh of relief escapes from everyone's mouth as I finish the last of the crunches. I roll myself over and push myself off the ground, feeling stiff and achy.

Yeah, Klysen was definitely a sadist. A sadist that a part of me felt an affinity to.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please read and review and constructive criticism is welcome!**

**I want to point out that Jade's anxiety has always been there, it just hasn't been as apparent until now. All signs of her anxiety include doubt, self-questioning, and much more. For more information on social anxiety, look it up as it is an actual problem that is very much part of society today. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and I'm really sorry for the wait. The next chapter should take less time in comparison! **


	12. Surprise

**Enjoy! Thank you to all of the comments and criticisms!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own PoT, Audi, Pirates of the Caribbean, Rixton, and etc.**

* * *

Love is an open door. The only time that could actually be true is when you open your fridge. I grab the leftover Mexican food from two nights ago and chuck it into the microwave. Punching the buttons to warm up the mixtures of rice, beans, cheese, and who-knows-what-else, the platter of food rotates with a buzz. I yawn, stretching my arms across my chest, feeling a pull across my deltoids and I peel the athletic tape off my shoulders slowly so my skin does not turn into a bright vermillion. I raise my left foot to my rear end, stretching my quad after the slow walk from Rikkaidai that took twice as long as it should have.

With a ring, the microwave calls out to me and I open the door and jab a fork into the food, lifting it to my mouth. The heavenly smell clashes with my natural chlorine perfume and my nose twitches.

Those two smells should not be mixed together.

I lick the fork slowly, getting off the excess bits of cheese and rice and I rip out the band holding my hair into a bun, letting the crinkled strands fall over my shoulders. The smell of the chlorine amplifies. I shovel the rest of the food into my mouth and dump the dishes into the sink before pulling my swim bag with me to the bathroom.

The heated water cascades in the bathtub, releasing steam float in the air lazily. Connecting my iPod with my speakers in the bathroom, I let a slow Rixton song clear my thoughts before stripping and washing off my swimsuit with clean water. The bottle of lemon-vanilla soap slowly dominates the chlorine odor, making me think of those rare sunny days of Portland where you couldn't help but feel happy. Those days felt like a rainbow, a scientifically explainable miracle and yet joy-inducing all the same.

The gushing water rinses away at the suds in my hair and I replace the suds with the slick conditioner, as if all the conditioner in the world could change the damage in my hair from the pool water. Memories of Portland suddenly come flooding back as flashes of my friends and the indoor pool at my swim club flits across my brain while I scrub the vanilla-lemon soap over my pale skin.

Did they miss me? Did my coach remember me? Was grandmother still yelling at the squirrels that dug into her garden? The eight-thousand kilometers between Portland and me felt like worlds away. My throat grows tight as I reminisce of the memories left behind in Portland.

My thoughts swirl in my clouded mind just like how the lemon-vanilla wafts and fogs the sliding glass doors enclosing the bowl-like bathtub. I step down from the porcelain surface to the fluffy mat atop the dark beige marble tiles while opening the glass doors. The water from the three showerheads on the ceiling drips to a stop.

Grandmother, Obaa-san, had redesigned my bathroom, knowing that I would have made the main bathroom of the flat very plain by just replacing the necessary items. She took the room plans for the remodeled flat from my desk one late Friday night when I was away at practice. I hadn't realized until several weeks later because of everything on my mind. By then it was too late, she had completely overturned the plans; there was now marble flooring, a well-crafted porcelain tub surrounded by curved glass doors, bowl-like sinks that mirrored the bathtub with both the shape and elegant chrome handles atop a granite countertop with cherry wood underneath, and a large framed mirror above with natural light flooding through a window that only allowed people inside the flat to see out and not vice versa. It was beautiful, luxurious, and completely unnecessary. I did not dare argue with Obaa-san though, because I would have been sassed in three different languages for over an hour. She had also done most of the apartment as well, including the other bathroom, the two bedrooms, and the kitchen. I eventually gave up in protesting and furnished the flat myself, not caring about the price tag. Obaa-san checked the bills and plans from time to time and ordered more expensive items if she thought I was not spending enough. I didn't understand why she wanted so much money spent on the flat. The opulent flat rivaled that of Keigo's mansion.

I pulled a towel around my torso and wrapped another around my hair, absorbing the excess water from my reddish-brown hair. I let the exhaust system defog the glass and mirrors, buzzing and messing with the soothing music over the portable speakers. I tap the power button of the speakers, letting the hum of the exhaust dominate.

I dress myself in shorts and a sports bra and I throw my bathrobe. I had too much homework that I had kept pending; my memories of Portland could wait. I immerse myself in my chemistry equations and Japanese reading on the living room couch, blearily blinking sleep away every couple of seconds. Somewhere in between my biology notes and Japanese history, a comforting black takes over my vision.

* * *

_Buzz._

A vibration on the coffee table wakes me up slightly.

_Buzz._

I groan and roll over, covering my ears with a pillow and screwing my eyelids shut. The noise soon stops and the stupor once again takes over, lulling me into a hazy darkness occasionally pierced with visions of rainbows over Portland.

* * *

BANG!

I sit straight up and nearly fall over, not expecting the pile of schoolwork on my stomach. Scrambling on my hands and knees, I place the various papers on to the coffee table before unlocking the door of the apartment.

I slowly push the door open. Keigo leans against the doorframe with one arm, his other hand running through his purplish-gray hair. He was still dressed in his business-casual blazer from this morning. Lines of worry are etched in his face but they disappear as soon as he realizes I could see him.

"Good afternoon," I blink wide-eyed, speaking in German.

"It's five in the evening," he snorts back in the European language, amused. His mouth suddenly purses, "What are you wearing?"

I look down at my body framed by the unbelted bathrobe that exposes an electric blue sports bra and black spandex shorts to the world. My cheeks grow warm as I fumble, tying the robe close hastily, making sure my cleavage was hidden from sight.

"You need to start wearing a yukata," he chuckles at my embarrassment. "Anyways, I called you at least five times and you didn't pick up, so I thought I would swing by."

I rub at my eyes, trying to fully wake. Keigo snaps his fingers under my nose to make me pay attention. My eyes widen with realization as I make the connection of me not picking up the phone being the source of the stress reflected on his face.

"Sorry, I fell asleep doing homework," I groan. "You know that I'm a deep sleeper."

"That's an understatement. I hit a pan with a wooden spoon next to your ear once and you still didn't wake."

I wrinkle my nose at the memory. I had fallen out of the bed when he finally had roused me. To this very day, I still had a faint scar on my knee from when I bashed it on the side of the bed. Keigo had laughed so hard he cried and I had spent the next hour chasing him around his mansion, limping and cursing in German the whole time. I eventually got his Christmas present, Beat, to tackle him and slobber all over his face.

A little over two years later, I was standing against the doorframe, scowling.

"Go put on some clothes," he commanded. "Or I'll drag you out in that," he gestures to the robe exposing the majority of my thighs.

"You wouldn't dare," I growl, eyes narrowed.

"Wouldn't I?" his eyes twinkle mischievously as he rounds on me.

I let out an involuntary squeal and back away before turning and running towards my room. Before I get there, he grabs me around my waist and I kick against him, laughing and protesting, "Okay okay! I will go change!"

He laughs back, letting go and pushing me towards my room. "Hurry," he warns, grinning, before I shut the door in his face. I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, rolling my eyes while he knocks on the door every couple of seconds.

Patience was never a virtue of his.

"Calm down," I call, swinging open the door. Keigo stumbles as he had been leaning against the door while he knocked. I smirk while he huffs, brushing off his clothes. He suddenly seized my arm.

"I grabbed your keys," he says, dragging me through the apartment and through the front door while thrusting shoes at me. I manage to slip my iPod into my pocket. "And seriously?" he scoffs. "Who wears sweatpants in public?"

"I like sweatpants," I mutter under my breath while I lock the door with the jangling keys that Keigo had handed to me. I barely manage to slip them into my pocket before he drags me down the path to the car and shoves me in.

"Why the rush?" I moan, falling against the leather seat of the Audi.

"Oh, no reason," he replies, mouth twitching.

That liar.

I sigh, resigned to going along with whatever his plans were, like usual. The driver presses his foot to the pedal and speeds off. I roll down the window, letting my hair whip around my face. I sigh, "I hate surprises."

"I know," he smiles. "Why do you think I give you so many?"

"Do you have any idea how passive-aggressive surprises are?" I retort back.

And we spend the rest of the ride arguing about the nature of surprises.

* * *

"We're almost there," Keigo announces, interrupting my jab about how people could die by surprise.

I comply, unquestioning. He slips a scrap of soft fabric over my eyes and gently slaps away my curious hands as he ties it. "Don't take the blindfold off," he instructs.

"Why not?"

He doesn't answer. A few minutes later, takes a few turns and stops. He gently guides me out of the car, up steps, and through a door. I could hear a flurry of steps and hubbub, but no hint to where I was. He suddenly lets go and I put my arms in front of me to make sure I do not walk into anything. He snickers as someone else grabs my arm and steers me in another direction. Whoever it was gripped my arms firmly, unlike Keigo.

"Good luck Sapphire!" he yells, somewhere behind me. "You will need it when they put makeup on you!"

Makeup?

At the sound of that word, I start to struggle against the firm grip but I could feel three other hands restraining me and picking me up. Before I know it, I am floating through the air, carried by several people as I squirm against their bonds, yelping.

* * *

"You may go to the room to the left when you exit," the snooty man sniffs, lacking approval. He tries to flash a mirror in front of me and I push it away, frowning. I get up, walk out of the room, and pull out my iPod that the stylist had tried to confiscate. I pull slightly at the dress, making sure I do not trip over the delicate fabric that the stylist had forced me into. He took my sweatpants away, not giving them back until I had dressed into the dress with the appropriate undergarments.

My iPod said that Bluetooth speakers were available for connection. I stroll towards the room on the left, deciding to obey commands, as I was pretty sure I was at Keigo's mansion and I wouldn't be able to leave without a map. I jab at the iPod classic, clicking to connect and I test the speakers, cranking up to full volume. A smooth amplified voice erupts from the room on the left.

I kick open the door and the music blasts from speakers that I had hooked up with my iPod by Bluetooth. Keigo looks slightly alarmed and then he grins, shaking his head. The other Hyotei people look completely confused.

I strut over to Keigo, grab his hand, and pull him to a standing position as I dance. My hips sway and my hair flies all over the place, and I wouldn't care less that it was so carefully styled. He just looks at me as if I am crazy. I probably am but I could feel like everyone was judging me. The pit of my stomach drops as I realize I am committing social suicide.

The beat reverberates in my ears. With every drum strike, I could feel my heart beat along. The deafening music took over every single thought, every feeling. The waves of the song bounced off the walls of the room and amplified the sounds from the speakers. My stomach swirls, conflicted with the beat of the music while my anxiety beats down on me.

To my surprise, Keigo starts dancing and looking crazy too.

"I can't let my best friend look stupid by herself!" he yells over the music.

I laugh and we shout the lyrics of the songs together.

I felt like a tornado had just touched down, ripping apart everything I had been taught about proper behavior in public. Somewhere in the eye of the tornado, Keigo was holding my hand, being crazy in the calm of the storm.

"You can go fight your next man," we tip our heads back and yell along to the song. "But I know what you're waiting for…"

The Hyotei players judge us, but with Keigo at my side, I'm not sure I cared. Shishido has a single eyebrow up, half-smiling out of incredulity. I hold out a hand to him.

Would he take it? Probably not. He would have to be just as crazy.

Shockingly, he does, slightly smiling and then releasing as he too lets go of his inhibitions. His long hair swishes, partially tied back and clashing with his formal clothing. For a while, we are ordinary teenagers jumping along to music, singing along to lyrics and bobbing our heads to the deafening drumbeats. Somewhere in the midst, everyone else jumps into the eye of the tornado, except for maybe Kabaji who awkwardly bobs his head, but he bobs his head nevertheless. I'm playing a nonexistent guitar and Keigo is singing with a hairbrush microphone.

I'm not even sure where the hairbrush came from.

Being from Hyotei, they must have understood English for the most part. They shouted along, letting their normal, proper selves fall to the ground, stripped of all decency. The raw beauty of unshielded humanity shines through the room. The anxiety sloshing away inside dissipates.

All too soon, the song ends, letting the soothing voice of Ed Sheeran's Lego House replace the erratic rhythm. The Hyotei team looks at each other, not really sure what to do. Keigo decides first, pulling out a chair. Everyone plops down into a seat, huffing slightly.

"You're crazy," Keigo breathes in Japanese so everyone else could understand. "Absolutely crazy."

I grin back, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

He flicks my nose, "It is."

I roll my eyes and smooth down the lace of the dress. The cascading navy flower appliqués dot the surface of the light blue strapless dress that had been modified to fully cover my bust. I hated lace, I hated dresses, and most of all, I hated heels. Yet, everything was so tasteful that I could not help but admire it, even though I disliked wearing the clothing. As always, Mrs. Atobe had impeccable taste. I balance precariously in the sparkly gold pumps as my hair fans over my back, the ends curled; the side-bangs held back by a small braids secured with bobby pins, something that the stylist had called half-crown braids.

I wouldn't have cared less what it was called, I just didn't want that hot rod of a curler anywhere near my face. Apparently, the stylist had been warned and called in two people to strap me into a chair. He had also held my face down before putting on mascara, lip gloss, and shimmery powder on my face. He made sure all of it was waterproof too, so I could not just wash it off.

Keigo's eyes twinkle, "You clean up well. My, Sapphire, is that makeup on your face?"

I growl back at him, "Well _someone_ told the stylist that I would struggle back."

"Oops," he shrugs, his lips twisting into a smile.

"Why did you even hire a stylist?"

"Because it would annoy you."

"I hate you," I groan.

"You love me," he retorts before pushing back his chair and standing up. "Anyways, it's about time that we go to the ballroom."

"You guys can go," I wave them away. "I think I'll stay in here for a few minutes, maybe an hour or five. I still have no idea what is going on, by the way."

He ignores my last sentence. "Don't make me get people to carry you away," he says, thoroughly amused.

I narrow my eyes at him and stand up; I would rather walk to the ballroom than get dragged there, one had a considerable less amount of attention attached to it. The light fabric swishes against my legs while somehow, the top of the modest strapless neckline does not ride down. Whoever did the modifications was good at his or her job.

Oshitari pushes his glasses up his nose and drawls, "If I must say though, you look stunning."

"Thanks," I reply curtly. "But if you try any pick-up lines on me, I'll punch you."

He chuckles, "Why must you always assume the worst?"

I mutter under my breath, "It's kind of your nature."

Keigo leads the Hyotei team out of the room. I follow before Shishido, the last one in the line. As I passed underneath the doorway, I could swear I could hear a slightly familiar, husky tone next to my ear, "He's right though, you look beautiful."

My heart pounds against my chest erratically, not daring to look back in acknowledgment in case the words had been a figment of my imagination. The voice reminded me of the same tone of a certain someone at a dinner who had gotten me to stop coughing and had compared three spoons to find which one was to be used with soup.

I pull my shoulders back and lift my head, just as I had been taught to do for exuding confidence. I lift my right hand to check if the earring studs that looked like light blue flowers were still in place along with the sparkly bangle on my wrist. I would not dare lose something of Mrs. Atobe's.

The mansion reminded me of a certain castle from a certain Disney movie that I had seen months ago with Keigo. Smiling, I hum the melody to a certain song.

Another throat joins my hum and I turn to see a brown-haired boy with sharp brown eyes humming along.

"My little cousin made me watch it, okay?"

"Sure," I tease Shishido. "Who said you weren't the one who made her watch Frozen?"

The corner of his mouth twitches as we follow Keigo in a mass of uncomfortable athletes in formal clothing. "You caught me."

Mukahi turns and shoots a meaningful look at Shishido. What is with all of these looks? First at the dinner a few days ago, and then now, it was almost like Keigo and me.

Wait, doesn't that make the slender tennis player close to Shishido? They did not seem like it. If they talked, they argued. I tucked the information into a nook in my brain, feeling like it would be useful later.

Keigo pauses, turns, and covers my ears. In rapidfire Japanese, he says something like "surprise" and "downstairs" but I could not be sure because of his hands pressed against my ears. The regulars nod and Keigo snaps his fingers. A butler appears out of nowhere and speaks to Keigo before leading all the regulars except for Shishido away.

He takes his hands off my ears, "I am going to leave and I will be back soon. Stay here with Shishido." And like that, he too walks away.

"What is going on?" I ask, incredulous.

"I was told that if I told you, my head would be on a platter," he snorts, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning against a pillar embedded into the wall.

"Or you could just tell me anyways."

"Nope. And I was cautioned that you would try to run off. Don't even think about it, I'm the dash specialist at Hyotei," he says, the side of his mouth twisted up into a half-smirk.

Well, if he told me not to do it, I had to try. Why did Keigo tell everyone with my issues following directions?

I balanced against the wall and slipped off Mrs. Atobe's heels. I let the straps of the heels dangle from one hand. I pointed at something off near the end of the hallways where several butlers and maids were milling around. "Oh no! Look!"

"What?" Shishido turns to look.

Before he could realize he was not looking at anything important, I lift up the bottom of the dress and extend my legs into a dead sprint. The heels in my hand click against each other and my hair flies behind me as I dash into the other direction.

"Oi! Get back here!" I hear the gruff shout of Shishido and willed myself to be even faster as I could hear thuds of footsteps behind me. Feeling like Jack Sparrow chased by natives on an island beach, I take the first escape that I could, bursting into the first room that I see. The room seems to be slightly familiar and a memory of room surrounded by bookshelves full of tomes and a cozy fireplace comes flashing back. Keigo had found a hidden passageway behind a bookcase, just like the movies, when he was trying to hide from me when I chased him for waking me up with a pan and a wooden spoon. If I could remember, the book that was the switch for the door was somewhere on the left wall's bookshelf; it used to sit slightly below eye level.

I extend trembling fingertips and pull at a red hardback with the title of 'Key.' With a click, a lighted passageway appears behind a sliding bookcase. I shove the book back into place and step into the long hallway before pulling the bookcase shut behind me as Shishido breaks into the room.

"Come back! Atobe will kill me!" he yells in the personal library, separated by the wall and bookshelves.

"Good!" I shout back. "You didn't do your one job!"

I giggle to myself as I walk down the long passageway, clutching the sparkly gold heels and hearing curses from the room I had just escaped. Several tapestries adorned the walls and the bright lights overhead twinkled. I could smell something delicious as I strolled past a particularly beautiful drapery. My mouth watered and I opened a door, revealing chefs clicking metal bowls and whisks together, shouting about how the next batch of food needed to be put out in the next ten minutes.

They turned to look at me, the intruder. I waved meekly, smiling and grasping the heels by my fingers.

"What are you doing here?" a young man with a bowl of chocolate asks in a thick European accent. He whisked the mixture of chocolate before immersing strawberries in the liquid heaven.

"Well," I answered in French, hoping that he would not throw me out of the room and hoping that he understood one of the European languages I knew. "I am running from a few people running after me."

The other chefs turn away, satisfied that someone else was taking care of the situation in the busy kitchen.

He drops his whisk in the chocolate mixture, "You speak French?" His eyes are wide with surprise and a genuine smiles spreads across his face. "Barely anyone here understands me because of my accent," he gestures to the enormous kitchen while speaking. " Most of them are trained in European food but I am from Belgium and moved here recently. My name is James."

"I am partially Belgian!" I exclaim, glad that no one has physically tossed me out of the room. He gestures at me to sit in a chair next to his workstation. "And it is a pleasure to meet you, James."

"Your name?" he asks, drizzling white chocolate over the hardened dark chocolate shell.

"Jade Klysen."

He drops his whisk with a clang, "You were not supposed to be here to begin with. But you of all people should not be here." His voice is low and warning.

"Why not?"

"This party is for you!" he says, throwing his hands up.

I shake my head, confused, "I'm sorry, but what?"

At the same moment, Keigo knocks open the door, panting. He grabs my arm and stomps off. I am too confused to question or struggle and I just wave to James the Chocolatier.

"You were to stay with Shishido," Keigo seethes, gritting his teeth. "I knew you wouldn't listen."

"If you knew I wouldn't listen, then why did you bother?" I quip with a grin.

He rolls his eyes before smiling, stomping down the not-so-secret hallway. The bookcase-wall is open and Shishido is crossly standing, hands across his chest and eyebrows up. I smile at him and poke his cheek, "Oh cheer up. Keigo isn't even mad, are you?" I direct my words temporarily to the teenager with purplish-gray hair.

"She was never going to listen anyways," he waves the issue away. "You are fine, Shishido. But mess up again and ore-sama will make your life hell. And _you_," he directs his words to me. "You're too smart for your own good. I did not think that you would remember the secret hallways."

I shrug, smiling. "Oops?" I stop and stoop to slide on the heels. Keigo gently guides me as I walk considerably slower.

"How do you even wear those things?" Shishido frowns.

"Magic and fairy dust."

"My mom had to teach her how to," Keigo explains. "Sapphire and her mom were exactly the same, they hate dresses and heels and almost everything girly."

"Are," I correct, my chest tightening. "We _are_ exactly the same."

Keigo just shoots me a look full of sorrow and pity. I look away, not wanting to think about why I had just corrected him. We pause in front a large ornate door. Snapping his hand, a butler appears and Shishido follows the butler away.

"What is going on?" I ask Keigo, sighing.

He ignores my question again. "In a few moments, when the door opens, we're going to walk through. Smile and look pretty."

"Don't I always?" I pretend to act like one of his fangirls, fluttering eyelashes and all.

He tucks a stray strand of hair that escaped the styled hairdo behind my ear. "No, you're ugly," he deadpans.

"Liar."

He smirks back as the doors slowly swing open. We stride forward, my arm balanced on his, revealing a crowd beneath a balcony in a ballroom.

"Relax," he murmurs, noticing my searching eyes and my panic before I had. I throw my shoulders back and smile, oozing confidence I did not have.

Someone announced my name and something about a guest of an honor in the background as I forced myself to breathe in front of the crowd. Keigo leads me down one side of the stairs and I clutch at the marble railing. I could hear Mr. and Mrs. Atobe speaking in the background, "We are happy to invite an old family friend to Japan. Klysen Jade and her brother has known our son since they were both very young and they have grown up together. Unfortunately, her brother cannot be with us today as he is college in the United States."

I hissed at Keigo, ignoring the eyes that were fixed upon us, "Really? A surprise party?"

He shrugs, smiling, "I like cliché, okay? Dad said it would be a good idea. You're now connected with the Atobe family, making you pretty powerful on the social scene."

I shake my head, keeping a beam on my face as we reach the bottom of the stairs, "That is not a good idea. What if _they_ come after my family again?"

Fear grips my heart as it flutters. Keigo shoots me a look, clearly showing his words through his expression. _We will talk about this later._

"And now, for a word from our esteemed guest," Mr. Atobe trails off as Keigo pushes me to take the microphone on the stage right below the balcony I had just been on.

I step on to the stage, heart threatening to burst out of my chest. I speak into the microphone in the most formal Japanese that I am capable of, "Good evening and I would like to say thank you to everyone who made an effort to come today. I would like to extend a special thanks to the Atobe family for giving me such a lavish welcome," the words flow over my tongue as I force myself to think of the pool, calming my nerves. "I owe them my life and I will always be gracious to be in their company, whether we are discussing stocks or I am hitting Keigo over the head with a pillow."

Titters of polite laughter burst out at my honest description. "I would like to ask all the guests to enjoy themselves tonight and I greatly appreciate the celebration in my honor." Smiling, I step off the stage with Keigo, breathing deeply to stop my hands from shaking because of my fear of crowds.

"You did great," he soothes. The small orchestra starts to play and the middle of the ballroom clears out for people willing to waltz under scrutiny. I freeze as Keigo leads us towards the middle.

"You have got to be kidding me," I moan in German.

"It is custom," he replies. "Trust me, I don't want you stepping on my feet either."

If people were not watching us, I would have hit him for that.

He places his hand on my upper back and grasps my right hand firmly as I slide a hand on to his shoulder. At the right note, we move and I nearly step on his foot. Other dancers fill in the void in the middle of the ballroom, covering some of our mistakes.

"We could have at least rehearsed before doing it in public," I protested quietly.

"We didn't have the time," he shakes his head. "We might have if someone did not run off."

I grin at him and he smiles back as we twirl. He dodges as I nearly clip his foot with my heel.

"You are just as bad as you used to be," he groans.

"Oh shut up," I bark. "I can swim fine and I am okay on the tennis court. That is all that matters."

"That is not going to matter when my parents and I introduce you to people."

"Shut up," I repeat, concentrating on not killing my dance partner. The song slows to an end and Keigo bows to me. I curtsy back and we begin walking back to a corner where I could escape the examination of the upper class. I spot the tennis regulars grouped together, champagne flutes in their hands.

"It's non-alcoholic champagne," Keigo assures me, noticing my line of vision. "Except Shishido always refuses and gets apple juice instead."

I snort, "Sounds like something I would do."

Keigo frowns, "Speaking of Shishido, where is he?" The long brown-haired teen is not with the Hyotei tennis team in a corner and out of sight. I felt a light tap on my shoulder and I turn.

The orchestra starts to play again and I see a hand. My eyes rake up the arm and to the face of the same person who had chased after me when I ran, the person who had compared the sizes of spoons, who had gotten me to stop coughing after Oshitari's dirty comment, and who may have told me that I looked beautiful in that husky tone. I still was not sure if it was my imagination or not.

Keigo smiles and lets go of my arm, walking back towards the tennis players alone.

"Klysen-chan," he slightly blushes, voice low, "may I have this dance?"

Just an hour ago, he had taken my hand when it was just the tennis players and I dancing in a small room. Could I do the same in front of a crowd?

I pause, praying that he could not see the slight flush on my cheeks. "You may."

* * *

**Please read and favorite! All reviews are welcome (they make me super happy) along with any criticisms. Thank you!**

**If anyone is curious, this is what her dress looks like. evening-dresses/jovani-evening-dress-92733**

**Also, the song that the regulars were dancing to is Wait on Me by Rixton.**


	13. Black Widow

**Hi! **

**I hope you like this chapter! It's a little shorter and it it gives a bit of background on Jade's past. And ****_gasp, _****Shishido comes into the picture. I mean he was already there, but now it's more obvious. I WANT TO WARN THAT SHISHIDO MAY BE SLIGHTLY OOC. This is because him being kicked off of the Hyotei team changes him greatly, and that's when he was introduced as a character, so this is what I saw him as. Brusque, slightly dark, mysterious, and not yet the hard worker who is willing to put everything on the line. Plus, this is what I feel like he might be around girls, but we'll see.**

**This chapter and the previous one go hand in hand, so if you don't remember what happened in the last chapter, PLEASE go back and skim over it! I was originally going to post these two chapters as one, but the chapter would have been very long and I hadn't finished with the second part. This way, it flows much better.**

**I was debating between "Black Widow" and "Exposing my Dark Side" as chapter names, until I felt like Black Widow was so much more cryptic. So enjoy Black Widow! Black Widows are known to be poisonous, and they have slow-setting poison; they also eat their mates after getting them to mate, so I felt that showed a little bit of insight to Jade's dark side. Her background and her past are being revealed slowly, so hold on for the ride (it's going to be a long one)!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own PoT, just the OC!**

**Please read, review, and favorite!**

* * *

"I will have you know that I am an awful dancer," I murmur, trying to convince Shishido this was a bad idea.

"I will live," he smirks back. "If I'm not mistaken, it sounds like you don't want to dance with me."

"No!" I protest.

I bite my tongue to keep the words I actually want to say from spilling out of my tongue. _I just do not to make you look like a fool._

Foxtrot music begins to play and my heart beats erratically. "Um, does the foxtrot go clockwise or counterclockwise?"

The corners of his mouth tug up, eyes sparkling, "Counterclockwise."

He slides his hand on to my upper back and the warmth of it burns through the dress. He ensnares my hand in his clutch, his large fingers dominating mine. His calluses rub against mine and we press our bodies closer together. Not touching, but close. His eyes are heated and I cannot tear my gaze away.

It is a few seconds later until I realize that he is gently leading me into a simple foxtrot, not looking down or past my face at the rest of the ballroom. Our steps turn into free-flowing unit, working together, almost giving me goosebumps. Keigo and I never danced this way.

I did not want to breathe. I felt like I was swimming a butterfly, skimming over the surface of the water, half flying over the choppy waves that parted for me. If I breathed, the fluid motion would end, the dancing would end and the counterclockwise turns and the swishing fabric had me enchanted. Picking up your head too early is a death sentence, and so is picking up your head too late.

But I did not want to breathe. If I breathed, the moment would end. So with baited breath, I stared back into Shishido's eyes, forgetting that I was at a party under the highest scrutiny possible, forgetting that this, this _fervor_ was being watched by someone, forgetting that there was anyone around us.

In that moment, all I wanted to do was to keep dancing.

Shishido was a breath of fresh air in a dusty, moldy ballroom full of the richest people in Japanese society. Never mind the Atobes, or Oshitari, or Choutaru, or anyone on the Hyotei tennis team.

He was a different breath of fresh air. The Hyotei team would smell like a forest, standing tall and dominating in tennis. It was easy to get lost or forget who you are when you are with them, but there was that unmistakable feeling of independence and freedom.

Shishido was different. He would smell like the air after a fresh autumn rain. Unbelievably cold, and yet giving life, vigor. It was both calming and refreshing. It made you want to throw on your rain boots and run outside, splash in puddles, and look for the rainbow. Inside, there had been a storm raging for the last two months. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, but I was ready for the fresh, calm air. The Petrichor that was a combination of the earth and the blood that ran through the veins of Greek Gods themselves.

That is what Shishido was. And if I breathed, I would miss it. Yet that's all I wanted to inhale, his fresh Petrichor.

"Relax," he murmurs, face close to mine. His eyes are alight and flashing mischievously. Was this the same person who compared spoon sizes, who got me to stop choking, who ran after me? His long hair swishes against his clothing.

"You haven't stepped on to my feet yet," he teases. "Relax."

I take my first breath and immerse myself back underwater, not wanting to miss a single moment of the chandeliers' sparkle or the notes of the small orchestra. The violins and cellos played more than just a song; it felt Orpheus himself was playing his lyre, and everything was captivated in this one moment, one second. Time could have frozen and I would not have been able to tell.

Who was he? How was it possible that I feel like I was swimming, dancing under the waves, while doing a foxtrot in a ballroom?

I feel sparks dancing along our fingertips, and butterflies in my stomach. Perhaps it was the turns, but I felt dizzy. _Could he tell how fast my heart was beating?_

Even with the Promenade, where we are supposed to turn our faces away as we step, we do not. He leads me into the steps, dodging my feet on several occasions, smiling nevertheless. The guy leads, and leads he does, stepping towards me before I step backwards in a never-ending chase.

All too soon, the orchestra plays the last notes, shifting their instruments to get a moment of respite. For the first time of what felt like hours, we tear our hands and eyes away, mumbling about how we claimed each other to be good dancers (his statement of saying that I was a good dancer was out of formality, I'm sure), how the orchestra was, and something about the weather as we walk together towards the tennis corner where the rest of the Hyotei tennis team sat around a table. I could feel that my cheeks were flushed and Keigo glances up and smirks.

The voiceless words are directed towards me as his dark eyes flash. _Did you enjoy yourself? It looks like you did._

I flip my hair to the front of my shoulder, wanting to hide behind the curtain of strands. _If I said no, would you believe me?_

If possible, his smirk grows wider as he sits back in his chair, satisfied. _Obviously not._

I tower behind Atobe's seat, wanting to be away from the rest of the players who were talking. Mukahi was looking at Shishido the same way that Keigo and I do when we are communicating: somehow telepathically, even though our brains are disjointed.

Keigo looks up at me and mouths in English while waggling his eyebrows, "You find him attractive. You _like_ him."

"No," I whisper back in German. "No, I do not."

"Denial," he sings as he lifts himself up from the chair. "Come on, I'm sure Shishido can spare sometime away from you. There are people you apparently required to meet."

I do not even bother responding to his jab about Shishido as we march off, arguing about something unimportant, just like usual.

* * *

"This," Keigo indicates to at least the fiftieth person he had introduced me to this evening, "is Ohno-san. He and his company dominate in advertising."

We bow to each other, I deeply, with my hands on my thighs and him with a jerk of his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ohno-san."

"And what does your family do? I believe they will increase their influence in Japan, yes? I do believe I have heard of your family," he speaks pompously, clasping a Rocks Glass, a broad glass at the bottom full of ice and topped with an amber alcohol, presumably bourbon or brandy. I force myself to keep my nose from wrinkling in distaste; I hate alcohol and its influence on people.

"My family owns a company of investment banking, but in the last ten years, my mother had started a company of her own specializing in the science behind cosmetics; their work is primarily in the US," I smile back at him, as charmingly as possible as I recite a summary of what I represent from memory. My mother had told me to memorize the speech if someone asks me specifically about my family and never to say it in public, as I was child and I had no business working with the suave faces of Wall Street. When I was young, I whined because I wanted to be a big girl like Mom. She smiled, hugging me, dressed in the typical lab coat that she wore from work even though she was both founder and CEO of one of the dominating companies on the market and revolutionizing skincare.

Now, I never wanted to grow up.

"We were thinking of increasing our influence in Japan, yes," I lie between my teeth. In reality, until my brother took over the company, who know what would happen. My brother was not to take over the company for years until after he had become fully polished in the business and managing world, and that was several years to go; he had several years of college and tennis left before he topped the company. I know I had to join him someday in the distant future as well, or maybe I was supposed to work in Mom's company, I was not exactly sure. Did I want to? Who knows?

"Ah yes," he nods. "I believe I read about it a few years earlier when it invested money into Atobe Corporation."

No surprise there, our families were both great friends and business partners. Matter of fact, I remember when we were little, sitting around the Christmas tree in Portland (we switched off years to visit during Christmas) and Mrs. Atobe saying something along the lines of how there were very few real friends, and that our families would be the best of friends until the end.

Could my childish mind have clouded my judgment? It was very likely that it had done so, but I wanted to keep that warm memory untouched.

I smile back, unsure of what to say. "Well it has been a pleasure to meet you Ohno-san." Keigo and I are about to walk away until he asks a question that pentrates my very core.

"How about you play a game of poker against me?" he smirks all of a sudden.

I pause and turn. Poker? Could I even bear to play the game again?

"Or, if you're too scared to, you can just run with your tail between your legs," he taunts, changing from a pompous older man with a bushy mustache to a hawk, mercurial and stealthy, dive-bombing at prey.

I know better than to fall to a taunt, but something about the man unsettles me, making the creature in me growl. I hesitate before following him to a corner near the front of the ballroom which was surrounded by a small crowd about to start a poker game. I pull out a chair and settle into it.

I grab a poker chip, flipping it, letting it fall into my palm.

"It's funny," I say in English. "That last time I played poker, I was betting on lives, not money. Oh," I sigh dramatically, "how the mighty have fallen."

Keigo shoots me a warning look.

"What, Keigo? Do they too not deserve to know?"

He says nothing, deep in thought, knowing that it was not smart for me to play.

I sit with flourish, back straight and predatory smirk. "Men, it's time we play poker."

I hate the game. I hate poker. It was a game that brought out the ugliest traits, the lack of humanity. The men who sat around the table reflected that, sipping at the drinks in their hand, ready to blow their cash.

Most of all, I hated that I was good at closing the outside world from my emotions, that I could flash my icy side triumphantly while robbing money and lives, that I could be good at the game.

It is all in the matter of the façade. If you had a good one, you could win. Otherwise, you would be thrown to the wolves.

The only person who has beaten me was my brother. He could play like no other, much like his tennis. Just when you think he had been beaten, he would rise from the ashes, hand around your throat. He was the Phoenix, and not just on the courts.

He was dangerous, and many knew it.

In America, the rich ruled. They had the power, and I knew all too well the effects of that. My family was wealthy, yes, even ridiculously so. We lived a life that showed very little indication of that, of the frills and glitter that the middle-class ran after. From the outside, we were normal.

From the inside, that was preposterously untrue. Mom and Dad taught my brother and me to manipulate, to curl people around your finger until they had stretched too thin. They warned us to not show that side in public, or ever, unless if told. We were only told to do so when around the voracious upper class. The Atobe family was different, and I am not sure why, but I just knew they were. They fought their way to the top using the same tactics, but they were not part of the voracious upper class, or at least not to me. I have no doubt that they were, because that is what was required to stay on top.

There were times that I liked to pretend that side of me did not exist, that I could switch between the Coral Snake, one of the most venomous of all, and the Scarlet King Snake, friendly and harmless. But like Jekyll and Hyde, there was no true separation from the two, just a boundary that I crossed from time to time, sometimes willingly, sometimes not.

Yes, around my friends and those who I respected, I was harmless. I could play the young and innocent part, which in reality was not a part, it was the real me, or so I like to believe. Around the ruthless upper class? I was just like them, somewhere between predator and prey.

I did not like being prey, so predator is the only other option. I was not particularly lucky, but I could shut down my face, my emotions. I could bluff and get away with it.

Better to be hunter than hunted.

I shut down the teenage student, the one who loved the pool and playing tennis, and all things that a typical teenager does.

Sometimes the ones who seemed the most normal could be the most dangerous.

It was time for the Black Widow to play.

* * *

Keigo grips my shoulder as the dealer shuffled the cards. My stack of poker chips sat in front of me, colored pieces of plastic that could rob people of wealth.

"Why don't you sit in and play as well, Atobe-san?" a man asks to the right of the person who had challenged me.

Keigo smiles uneasily, "I am afraid that I shall sit this one out."

The man nods, turning his shrewd eyes towards me. I raise a single eyebrow, making him turn away. I cross my legs. I could scare myself by how comfortable I was at the poker table as the dealer slipped two cards in front of me.

"What's going on?" Oshitari's voice drawled behind me.

"She's playing poker, you dolt," Keigo huffs indignantly so that only Oshitari and I could hear.

"Good luck, Klysen-san," Choutaru echoed.

I didn't turn back, torn between my façade and the people I knew. Only Keigo could see me like this, my cold expression, icy glare, frost stretched across my mouth.

"Is she any good?" a brusque voice tore through. _Shishido._

I could not answer as the players began to check their cards. I took a deep breath before taking a quick peek .

Ace of spades and ace of clubs.

I fully immerse myself in the façade as the Hyotei tennis players watch. The other players finish looking at their cards.

They were good. No one else had emotion on their faces, no surprise, no nothing. Just blank. They watched each other, waiting for a signal. The one to the left of the dealer suddenly barks out, "Raise!"

He chucks a few chips in, "Five-hundred."

Internally, I raise my eyebrows, but I know better than to let my eyebrows twitch in front of the sharp men. Five-hundred is low for the upper class, especially considering a little over one-hundred and ten yen equaled to five dollars. The starting bet would then equal about four and a half dollars.

"One-thousand!" the next man calls, throwing in more chips.

Oh, were they playing safe? I rake my eyes over his face, studying. The second man's right eye twitches ever so slightly.

Gotcha.

"Five-thousand!" Ohno-san calls, partially confident. Too confident. I am not shocked that the next person folds.

The betting raises and a few people fold before their eyes land on me. Without blinking, without any twitching, I slightly open my mouth. "Ten-thousand."

Around the table, the men say nothing. They aren't foolish enough to doubt a teenage girl. The stakes start to rise quickly.

The tenth person at the table pushes his poker chips towards the center of the table, mirroring my movements, "Call."

The dealer flips over the three cards at the top of the deck. A rustle of wool suits as men examine the overturned cards floats by my ears. I don't bother to check the cards, only the expressions. Only one has a floating glimpse of disappointment as he checks the cards before quickly turning his face into cold stone.

Too bad, so sad, see you next time.

I shoot a fleeting look at the cards in the middle, ace of hearts, ace of diamonds, and nine of hearts.

That made me have a four of a kind. Was it statistically probable that someone had a better hand than me? No. Was it possible?

It was always possible.

The six people, including me, left at the table started betting again as I watched their faces, their hands, their necks, anything that would give them away.

"Twenty thousand," the second man left at the table raises.

Bluff or serious?

"Fifty grand," says the third.

"Call," the next narrows his eyes, matching the money amount.

Everyone around the table hushes as they catch the underlying tension. Eyes dissect the people around the table, watching every movement, every breath.

"One-hundred," Ohno-san pushes in his chips.

"Call," I murmur, observing the faces and matching the one-hundred thousand yen bet chip for chip.

One-hundred thousand yen equaled the rent of a decent flat in Tokyo for a month. I made sure I knew the currency value before I left Portland.

The players around the table begin the next cycle of betting.

"I fold," one man throws his cards down.

The next shoves in more chips, "Five hundred grand."

The pile of chips kept growing bigger and bigger as the betting pool escalated.

"Fold."

"Fold."

"Call," I whisper, pushing in chips, stony-faced.

The two men left snap their gaze towards me. Did I really want to tangle in this?

Always.

Pick and choose your battles, and this was one I was fighting.

"Call," Ohno-san grinds out.

"Raise, one million."

"Call," I say, not breaking composure at the massive sum of money.

Gasps echo around the table. Were they really surprised? Did they not understand that people bet their lives away? I watched that happen in front of me. "Are you sure?" the dealer asks, brows furrowed. He had clearly not ever taken care of a party full of the wealthy elite.

"Fold," Ohno-san, the one who had first challenged me, pushes his cards towards the center of the table and walks away. I win, partially at least. The crowd around the table parts for him.

"Looks like just you and me, girly," the man smiles. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I say nothing, just looking at the dealer.

"Fair enough," he smirks, black hair falling over his eyes. The young man's breath stinks of alcohol as he takes a swing from his glass. "Let's make this fast."

I arch an eyebrow.

I have to admit, his poker face is good. His eyes are narrowed, watching me the same way I watched him. He trails his eyes over me, and I suppress the will to shudder as his gaze grows hungry.

"Ten million."

"Twenty-five," I reply. The betting pool was now equal to over two-hundred thousand dollars. He was either fairly confident, or extremely rich. Probably both. Eyes bulged around the table as the betting pool turns into an enormous cash prize.

"Fifty million."

Were my cards really good enough to beat him? Did I even have that much money to pay up?

I pause, a fatal mistake, before saying "Sixty." That had to be over half a million dollars.

He smiles at me, knowing he has caught me. "All in," he pushes his chips towards the center of the table.

Either I match, or he takes all of my money.

I breathe before mirroring his movements. There had to be around one-hundred million yen from both of us, and more left sitting on the table from the people who had withdrawn. Estimated amount in US dollars? About a million total.

I had seen higher stakes though. Money wasn't the same has human lives.

He flips over his cards with a slap. My eyes linger on the nine of diamonds and nine of spades. He had a full house. I break composure with a slow blink, closing my eyes for a second. His face breaks from his façade too, smiling and daring me to face him again. I casually overturn my cards and separate the two with my fingers. His eyes widen as the dealer announces, "Four of a kind versus full house. The lady wins."

He breathes heavily, "Your payment will-"

"That is not necessary," I respond stiffly as I push the chair back and stand up. "Just consider yourself lucky that I played you instead of someone else." I had no need for stolen money.

Keigo sighs, now face-to-face with me. "You idiot."

I turn off the façade for the upper class and absorb my normal self, "You say that like you're surprised."

He rolls his eyes.

"Congratulations!" Chotarou smiles.

Oshitari has his normal bemused face on and Shishido frowns, "Were you willing to give him the money if you lost?"

I shrug, unconcerned as Shishido lifts a single eyebrow as my heart beats quickly matching his intense gaze. I, too, did not know what I would do had I lost. All that matters is that I did not, and I knew that I would not.

The last time I had been at the poker table, I had not been playing but I had been forced to watch. They had bet on deaths, on lives, on reputation.

"You idiot," Keigo repeats in German. "The last time you were…you could have-"

"This wasn't last time," I murmur. There were no more flashes of a certain tattoo that sent chills up my spine. No one was attacking my family this time.

"That is not the point," he hisses and then sighs, conceding.

I ignore him and ask the butler if he has any apple juice.

"Make that two," Shishido orders.

The butler looks incredulous as he walks off to find apple juice. Shishido and I look at each other because of the butler's expression, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

* * *

The party drags on until the late hours of the night, making me pause right before I rub my eyes until I remind myself that is improper behavior. Thankfully, as all things must, the celebration draws to an end, leaving me and the Hyotei tennis team left as Mr. and Mrs. Atobe shoo us away, saying we had school the next day.

"Why are they still here?" I ask Keigo in German, waving a hand around at the rest of the Hyotei tennis team, clad in shorts and t-shirts after changing, sitting in a broad room with several beds.

He frowns, "I thought that I would be gracious and extend my hospitality to them. After all, they should be honored to stay in an Atobe-"

I swat at him, exasperated, as he dodges, "Oi, the party is over. Stop acting fancy."

He sighs, "Sorry. You're staying over too, right? It is kind of late for you to go home."

"No Keigo, I am sitting in a t-shirt and pajama pants for no reason," I raise my eyebrows, amused and sarcastic.

He sticks his tongue out in a very un-Keigo-like manner.

I had ditched the dress and wiped off the make-up as soon as possible, throwing my hair into a loose bun and letting the maid take care of the dress and heels. I would normally protest, saying I would do it myself, but I had been too tired to argue. I sat in the room with multiple beds for the Hyotei tennis team, including ones for Taki, Hiyoshi, Kabaji, and Jirou, who I had barely talked to during the party. I don't even remember seeing Jirou awake, to be honest.

I hear a yell and I turn to see a pillow flying my way. Mukahi is hitting Shishido over the head while shouting a single word with every hit, making a muffled sound mixed with a "stop that!" and "omph!" from Shishido.

"JUST."

"ADMIT."

"IT."

Shishido grabs his own pillow and knocks Mukahi in the face.

"NO."

The two begin to promptly throw pillows at each other as I watch grinning and the Hyotei team laughs. Suddenly a pillow cuts through the air, flipping my way. I dodge it a moment too late.

They freeze as it hits me in the face, the plush head-cushion falling the the ground with a deadened plop. I pick up the pillow slowly, eyeing the two tennis players who watched me, not sure what to expect. With a battle cry, I charge in between the two and hit them over the head as all the tennis players pick up pillows and charge into the skirmish, laughing. With yells of "Gekokuju!" and "This is super lame!" and something in that recognizable Oshitari drawl, we are teenagers again, having shaken off the bindings and words of adults from hours previously.

It takes a several hours-when I wake up in a separate room-for me to find out I have feathers woven into my hair from the pillow fight.

* * *

A whine sounds at the back of my throat as I look at the Atobe choice vehicle of today, outside in the dark. It was six in the morning and the dark grey Lambhorgini calls to me with its glossy finish and unusual four seats.

"We had it specially made," Mr. Atobe shrugs. "Unfortunately, we have to go to work, so Charles will drive you," he hands the keys to the butler. "Unless, if you want to drive."

My eyes light up, and then I hesitate, "But wait, the driving age here is different from the States."

His mouth twists, "You're right. Never mind then, but you can always drive on the roads around the house. No one monitors them."

"Thank you!" I yelp, excited and bouncing on my toes, before I clear my throat and wipe the elation off my face. Mr. Atobe chuckles and waves before Keigo and I slip into the car.

Mrs. Atobe throws a bag into the car just as the door closes, "Keep the dress! It was tailored for you!"

I gasp, clutching the bag and protesting. She laughs at my expression and my inability to hand it back as she too waves while the car zooms off.

"Don't you have practice?" I frown.

"I was nice and canceled morning practice for today for the regulars," he waves it off. "But they have twice the afternoon practice."

I narrow my eyes and half-frown at his statement. Isn't that the same amount of time total? How was that nice? I twist my hand into confused girl pose, with my hand in the air, up, with finger partially outstretched in a wordless question. _Um, what?_

Keigo chuckles, "It's as nice as I get to them, okay?"

A comfortable pause fills the air before, "Speaking of nice...Shishido, huh?"

"Nope," I say automatically.

"Are you sure?" he grins. "Because you two looked pretty cozy yesterday."

I ignore his statement, "So, the weather is nice today," I answer pleasantly.

"Ah yes, nice like Shishido."

I grind my teeth.

"The chandeliers in your ballroom are pretty."

"Like Shishido."

He grins, his smug face repeating his words every few seconds with every phrase I say.

"I hate you," I groan finally.

"Like Shishido...oh wait," he furrows his brow as my lips quirk at the small victory.

* * *

Keigo waves to me through the window as the car zips away. He had to get to school as well, so I wasn't mad at him for not dropping me off at school and my apartment instead. I wouldn't have been mad regardless, as I usually like my morning walks to the pool. I open the door with the key that Keigo had just handed me before Charles the butler had driven him back towards his mansion.

I jiggle the key in the lock and it opens with a click, rooms still lighted from yesterday afternoon. I lock the door behind me and pull off the t-shirt I had gone home in and the bag holding the dress that Mrs. Atobe had shoved in my hand before Charles had driven off. I drape the bag over the corner of the sofa and I walk to the bathroom, searching for my school bag. I fish out the extra change of clothes and slip in my tennis racket and extra swim suits into the bag. I wasn't sure what Coach had in mind, but I knew I had to be ready for everything.

I throw on a chambray button down and tuck it into leather shorts, because he said to not wear just shorts and a t-shirt. I was hopeless at these kind of things, and I needed Keigo to tell if my clothes were appropriate for the occasion or not. My boat shoes sit next to the door and I pull them on as I walk out the door, slipping my iPod, phone, and keys into the smallest pocket of the bag. The sun's rays are peeking over the horizon, shooting beams of pink and orange into a slightly cloudy sky.

Memories of the night before swirl in my head as I trek to the school, tennis racket handles sticking straight up out of my athletic bag on my back. The names of all the people I had been introduced to had blurred together in the few hours of sleep that I had been permitted to have, but the one thing that stuck with me was that foxtrot and the feeling accompanied with it. A warm feeling bubbled in my chest as I thought of the pillow fight, of Shishido's dropped jaw as I hit him over the head, laughing.

It does not take long to reach to Rikkaidai but I had gone over the memories stored in my head several times over before I reached the school. I try to push the thoughts of the long-haired, unusually brusque, 'breath of fresh air' as I walk up to Coach Suzuki at the poolside.

"Good morning," I smile.

"Oh good, you didn't wear jeans and a t-shirt," he rolls his eyes. "I thought you were not paying attention to me when I was telling you everything."

I continue to smile, not wanting to say that, well, I _had not_ been paying attention. "Anyways," I change the subject. "What school are we going to?"

"Seishun Gakuen," he says, looking up at the sky, at the pinkish-orange horizon as a gentle breeze blows small choppy waves on the pool. "We're going to Seigaku."

* * *

**Please review! They keep me motivated and happy and I like to know if I'm going on the right track or if anyone has any criticisms for me! ****I've had a lack of reviews lately, so I'm not sure if the majority of people like the new track that the fic is on. I want to reveal a lot more of Jade's past and dark side as the plot starts building. Please give me feedback!**

**Thank you to the guest reviewers! I only wish that I could respond to you!**

**I redid my profile page. I now have the link to my Tumblr if anyone wants drabbles or anything else! Any requests are welcome! **

** blog/bluheartib3**


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